Deathly Hallowed
by Shujin1
Summary: The Tale of Three Brothers was not a legend. It was a warning. No one cheats Death. And luckily for Lily Potter, the promise of the Cloak's return in exchange for her son's life was a fair deal. Stare into the abyss, Harry Potter, and we will see who blinks first.
1. Death

_**Deathly Hallowed**_

_The Tale of Three Brothers was not a legend. It was a warning. No one cheats Death. And luckily for Lily Potter, the promise of the Cloak's return in exchange for her son's life was a fair deal._

* * *

_What can be done, what cannot. What could not, would not, should not. Proper wizarding children know the rules of magic. It's in their blood. They don't set limits. They obey them. For the muggleborn on the other hand, it's always a matter of 'what happens if I do this?' _

_The infamous last words of many a muggleborn everywhere._

* * *

It began at the far side of the shed, one of the many old dilapidated and crumbling safe houses of the Order, a slight cold breeze that came from nowhere carrying the sound of a sigh. It swirled around lazily, flicking at the pages of her books, playing with strands of her red hair, stirring up the sawdust on the floor. As she shifted, the sole window mounted on the back wall began to darken, something like a mist creeping inward from the edges of the glass. When the first crack sounded, loud and sharp, she almost flinched.

"No spells, Lily," she told herself sternly, even as she triple checked her wand and her mouth went dry. "No spells." The cheap watch she wore just for this occasion ticked its way calmly toward eight o'clock as the window continued to splinter. "Absolutely no spells."

A spider's web of cracks decorated the obsidian glass panes, and Lily couldn't stop the small bubble of hysterical panic from forming in the back of her throat when several seconds passed with nothing happening. What if the conjured glass broke the rules? What about the Muggle-Repelling charms on the safe house? What if-

Her watch hit eight and only managed to get off one chime before Lily jabbed at the buttons, sharp silence almost ringing. Before her eyes, the darkness in the window seemed to swell, tentatively flexing, before exploding outwards in a shower of razor shards. She could feel the sting as a few sliced past her cheek and ear and beneath her feet, runes lit up in a sick yellow glow. She resisted the urge to check behind her, cringing as she imagined aurors from the ministry walking in on her, or even worse, Albus Dumbledore…

Dark mist began to pour out of the broken window, following the wall down where it came across the first line of her preparations. More runes, written in the oldest language she could reliably translate, rimmed with silver. The mist hesitated at the edge of it, tasting, and to Lily it almost seemed like it had half a mind to turn around and go back.

"It won't hurt you," her mouth said before she had a chance to think it through. A _presence_ was in that mist and she could _feel_ it give her its attention. "It's just for stability," she soothed. "A form."

It lingered, judging as the minutes ticked by. Lily spared a quick look at her watch; the mist surged over the line and towards her. The runes shimmered with power, sparking and her eyes widened with alarm as the silver melted into bubbling puddles. Overload. The mist that approached the second line boasted of a slightly denser quality, and with a second of casual inspection, drifted over her handiwork. Emboldened, it began to cross the lines faster, shadows gathering behind it in mass as a chill prickled her spine, a sigh whispering in her ear.

Eight by eight.

She could only watch, trapped behind a circle of runes, as it advanced. Every eighth line seemed to slow it a little, gaining a bit more of a shape, a bit more mass. Wisping shadows became searching tendrils, and then loose approximation of hundreds of fingers scratching across the floor. Another eighth line, and the mass sprouted skeletal hands, dragging. It gained definition, warped bones and twisted joints and quite suddenly, Lily Potter did not want to see what kind of form it would eventually take.

But it wanted to see her.

Another eighth line, and several hundred eyes opened.

"No spells, Lily," her voice trembled. "No spells."

57.

58.

It was closer, twisted arms slapping at the floor, and it began to wail as it bore on her, a song with words she understood and yet couldn't hear, dissonant chords that echoed inside her head, bounced behind her eyes and a black signal that carried a _pressure…_She wiped away the blood that was trickling out of her nose, it was reaching out, so _close-_

_62._

_63!_

_**64**_

The moment stretched as she stared into the yawning abyss. Haunted faces stared back, twisting and silently screaming, beckoning; she could vaguely feel herself shift and lean forward-

Her watch chimed. Lily blinked. And standing in front of her was a dark figure, vaguely humanoid and cloaked in shifting shadow, a gnarled hand with dark, pulsing veins was outstretched, resting against her runic barrier. The yellow glow was worrisomely bright, but it held. Letting go of her wand took effort, and she winced as her knuckles cracked loudly.

For a moment, she just stood there, marveling. A curious low hum was vibrating off the walls and the being stood there, its eyes would periodically open and close. She made sure not to stare into them for too long.

_Caller, _a thousand voices whispered into her mind.

"My name is Lily Potter," she told it softly, carefully. "I am married to James Charlus Potter-," the runes she was standing on turned silver. "And my son is Harry James Potter."

It leaned in, ignoring the way the barrier flared with light. _Mine_

"Descendants of Ignotus Peverell, yes," she confirmed, sorely tempted to conjure a tissue for the busted vein in her nasal cavity as she wiped her face again. "We have your Cloak."

_**Mine**_ it said again and to Lily's horror, the light of her runes flickered.

"Yes! Yes, I know! But you gave it away! It belongs on _This Side _now." Its numerous eyes began to narrow, but it wasn't trying to get at her either. "I'd be willing to bargain for it." When it didn't react, she plowed on. "The Peverell name is gone, finding others who _can _return your Hallows is hard enough, never mind finding those who _would._"

_My wand_

"I don't know where it is," she said earnestly, almost trying to will it into believing her.

_My stone_

"I don't know where that is either but you can have the Cloak _if-_" She paused, going over her intended wording and recalling the story of the youngest Peverell brother. "If you wait for him as a friend, until he is ready to go."

_This Side_

Lily dug into her pockets, before retrieving a small vial filled with her own blood and charmed to be unbreakable. Just in case. She held it out by her fingertips just short of crossing the runic line. "If I give this to you, that means you-" the runes sparked, brighter. "If you take, you accept."

With a weak fizzle-pop, the barrier failed and with it, the only light. Her gut twisted, a chill slithering from her fingers up her arms, and for a second, she cursed being such a Gryffindor. What had she been _thinking? _Was she mad to even think that anything she did could possibly—

She felt it take the vial from her, heard it shatter.

_Mine_

"I- yes, yours." She swallowed thickly, straining her eyes into the pitch dark. "All yours."

Minutes passed.

_Friend_ it tentatively tried. Lily could feel her eyes pulse with a slight pain as small veins gave way. _Mine_

"Yes."

It began to draw away, slowly at first, and then picking up speed losing its form as it went.

56.

55.

54. 53. 52. 5150494847…

She waited until the last wisp of shadow vanished past the window, leaving only an image of a starry night sky before heaving a huge sigh of relief. She knelt down and brushed her fingers through the sawdust on the floor, inspecting the runes. She had carved them into the wooden floor using a simple pen knife but now they looked as if she had used a blowtorch. The culmination of seven months of research and foolhardy daring.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. All her materials were here. All of the books she had found. Albus had asked to study the cloak just days earlier; it was only a matter of time.

It began at the far side of the shed, one of the many old dilapidated and crumbling safe houses of the Order, a crackle of burning embers and swirling smoke. It swirled around lazily, nipping at the pages of her books, reflecting off strands of her red hair, consuming the sawdust on the floor. When the first loud snap sounded, the shed's backbone broken from the fire, she turned away. Prophecy be damned.

Harry was safe now.

She slipped into her home in Godric's Hollow just a shade away from being utterly exhausted. A pulsing headache was making the blood rush in her ears and she had nearly splinched herself apparating , never mind the half a dozen hexes she sent at any suspicious looking shadow half-convinced that it had gone just a bit _too well._

"Lily?" the soothing tones of her husband almost made her knees give way.

"James," she murmured. "Did Sirius leave already?"

"Yeah, a few minutes ago." He was peering at her, trying to see into the shadows of her hood. "Are you alright?" In answer, she let him see her face and was rewarded with his mouth dropping open. "Merlin! You look like death warmed over, what happened? Did you run into any Death Eaters? What were you doing?" he babbled, drawing her into his arms. "You're bleeding," he continued, softer. "Oh Lily…"

"It's just a nose bleed and a few scratches," she smiled, trying to look better than she felt. "I've had worse."

He chuckled weakly. "I'm not sure I even want to know. Honestly though," he said, frowning. "How did this happen?"

"I-" Lily spotted movement out the corner of her eye. "I-" was it? Yes, the window was darkening, a mist crawling along it like a shadow in a pond. She backed away from him, hand automatically going to her wand. James froze.

"Is someone out there?" he whispered, not moving his eyes from hers.

With a shuddering sigh, she let go of her wand. No spells. "It's in here." _It followed her. _She watched as the mist left the window only to reappear in one further along the wall of the house. She followed it simultaneously comforted and terrified by the presence of James at her back. It was in the living room window. As she approached, vaguely aware of James grabbing his wand from the table as they passed it, the mist moved on. The window on the stairs.

Each step creaked.

The mist went right and Lily felt her heart stop. "Oh god, _HARRY!"_ She broke into a dead run and James followed her, bellowing at the top of his lungs. "HARRY!"

The door to the nursery was of solid construction much like the rest of the house, Lily noted as she slammed bodily into it having not quite managed to turn the doorknob all the way. It was noted for future reference as she finally got it open. She stopped dead just inside the room. Out the corner of her eye, she could see James lift his wand and she snatched at it. "_Don't!_" she hissed. Startled, he lowered it slightly. "No spells. Trust me."

A large disembodied eye was hovering around Harry's crib, flitting back and forth like a bizarre hummingbird. Harry was reaching out to it with an uncertain expression on his face as if he could tell that something wasn't quite right. Lily's heart was trying to hammer its way right out of her chest.

"You just wanted to see him, didn't you?" she murmured quietly, stepping closer and doing her best to appear harmless. James reached for her, stopped, and tried again.

"Lily…"

She ignored him. "You just wanted to see Harry." The eye turned to her, bobbing the air gently. She gasped. It was a brilliant color of blue. "Well, what do you think?" she continued as if having a conversation with a floating eyeball was an everyday occurrence. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

For a moment, it just stared at her.

_Friend_

She heard James hiss in pain and Harry began to whimper. Lily crept forward. "You hurt Harry when you talk like that. You don't want to hurt your friend, do you?" The eye's brilliance dimmed and she imagined it didn't like that anymore than she did. "How about you blink once for 'no' and twice for 'yes'?" she suggested, blinking obviously to demonstrate.

The eye immediately sprouted eyelids and deliberately blinked twice.

In spite of herself, Lily smiled.

If Lily and James seemed to have twice as many tense moments and screaming matches as before, no one mentioned it. If the shadows in Harry's room were a bit darker than anywhere else in the house, no one noticed it. When the window on the far side finally gave in to the pressure and shattered, Lily left it as it is with a strong Notice-Me-Not charm on the empty panes after sweeping up all the glass. If the Potters had taken to leaving their wands behind in other rooms whenever they went to Harry, it really wasn't much. They were in hiding for a reason after all and sometimes bad habits develop. After the Fidelius charm settled over the house, the visits from their friends dropped to record lows and the Potters were left out of more and more of the Order's activities.

If Lily occupied her time by teaching their mysterious visitor, no one outside of her husband and her son knew.

"No, Thana, like this, look," she held out her hand and flexed it slowly. "Skin wrinkles and moves, see? It bunches a little at the knuckles." James had been horrified when Lily suggested naming it, having realized exactly what it was. _It's like naming a storm! It's a force of nature, it's dangerous and it doesn't care!_

_We do that you know, muggles I mean._

_You-you do what?_

_Name storms._

As far as names went, it was far from the most original just being 'Thanatos' with the masculine ending chopped off of it but her entire list of names were derivative of pagan gods. A normal name, a common name parents wouldn't mind giving to their children just didn't seem right, not when that image from the shed

_Far too many hands, too many eyes, too many mouths and __that sound_

Was burned into her mind just as vivid as when she had first seen it. In her dreams, she was always at that shed, watching it bear down on her with only a flimsy runic barrier for protection. More often than not, she woke up with blood pouring from her nose. If James noticed how often she awoke in the dead of night as cold as ice, he didn't say anything.

_How come wizards don't believe in God?_

_We have gods. We just know better than to call on them._

She leaned in to get a closer look at Thana's latest attempt, absently removing the paw of 'Padfoot' from Harry's mouth. "Much better." She looked over the hand critically. "I would say that you are far too pale however." The skin flushed uncertainly a deep red as if it was coloured in with one of Harry's crayons. Lily stifled a laugh, smiling broadly instead. "Never mind! Never mind, the other color suits you much better."

Thana seemed to agree, reverting immediately.

"Moo'y," Harry gurgled. The shadows gathered underneath a stuffed wolf before depositing it in front of the little boy who wasted no time in grabbing it. "Ma!" he cried out, holding the toy up. "Moo'y."

"That's right Harry. That's Moony." Lily hesitated, shooting a quick glance at the shadowy figure by the window. "And Thana got the toy for you. Can you say Thana, Harry?"

Her son looked up at her and as always, completely captivated her with his eyes. "Ta'a?"

She smiled even as Thana went unnaturally still. "Thana. And what do you say when someone does something nice for you? Hm? What do you say?"

"T'ank you Ta'a," Harry said obediently and squealed happily when his mother gathered him up for a fierce hug just the way he liked it. "Ma!" Thana hadn't spoken since that first day, so she wasn't surprised when the figure remained silent. Harry didn't notice. Lily wondered.

Her dreams that night were different from what she had grown somewhat used to. The air was heavy with rain and there was always a faint spark, a faint crackle of lightning alive in the clouds. The shed was always there but this time it was on fire, the last image she had of it. She could feel the heat curling from the wood, glowing orange smoldering within. She approached the door after only a moment of hesitation. She had to go inside, that's how it worked.

Granted, it was _on fire _but it was also a dream. Lily suddenly paused. A dream in which she didn't have her wand on her.

She eyed the door a lot more nervously than she had just a moment ago.

_Caller_

Startled, Lily walked closer to the door. "Thana?" Now sure that she had to go in, Lily covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve before kicking down the door to the old safe house. It crumbled, shooting a wave of sparks and ashy debris into the air. "Thana?" The heat was stifling and it made her eyes blink rapidly in a futile effort to retain some moisture. "Are you in here?"

The inside of the shed was almost exactly the way she imagined it would look. The wood was peeling off in slivers as it expanded, her books were burning piles and bits and pieces of the roofing was falling down as the shed groaned. The back wall remained untouched. The fires raged around it, trying to grab purchase on something but the wall that held the window was pristine. She could see her runes, rimmed in silver, undulating like a serpent, shifting. It beckoned to her.

_Tha thung, shax ghhutla', ghaa't a tuftkan natk_

Lily reeled as her head exploded in pain, something crashed to the floor behind her.

_Or xaftftugh, ghhuta ghiaaa' ruftgt allaa' su huga_

The window darkened.

_A ratha nus ur shut aa'sh, shuiagh nuna ga'at atk_

A song was being crooned softly, the dulcet tone floating just underneath the crackling flames. The words sounded familiar but she couldn't get her tongue around it when she tried to sing along. It was as if it was in some language she had forgotten long ago and only had glimpses of a child's proficiency to fall back on.

She tried anyway.

"J-jiats ghhas shuta," her arms itched and Lily stumbled closer to the unburning wall that seemed to get even further away. "Raasia'at a'a, ghuth, fta-fta," she couldn't remember the next words. _What were the next words?_ If she could cry, she would, mindlessly putting one foot in front of the other. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. "Thana, please!"

_Jiats ghhas shuta raasia'at a'a, ghuth ftaftga untuga_

The shed continued to burn around her, sobbing with dry eyes. She could almost feel her mind expand, whispers of something _other _pressing deep into her. A colossal mind, an endless presence. It was so **_beautiful_**

_Manx, un nan't ru'ts xuiash, tuiaghs uias shas gftughh_

She was close. The window was visibly weakening, cracks spidering across its surface. She didn't even think of stopping.

_Bias ghhas shax ruiang, nu una ghuftft a'a knugh! Ia! IA!_

The window exploded outwards.

Lily woke up with her breath caught in her throat, still seeing shards of glass flying towards her eyes. She felt sick. She crawled out of bed with the practiced ease of someone who found themselves awake far too early far too many times and stumbled into the bathroom. Her charmed night light was still on and for a second she stared into it, its pale orange casting deep shadows. Orange like the fire.

Shuddering she turned away and splashed her face with water. And again.

"Just a dream," she told herself. "Snap out of it, Lily!" Splashing herself once more for good measure she looked up into the mirror. Her reflection stared back. Pale and wan with bags under her eyes, red hair hanging limply into her face, her eyes were positively bloodshot. "That was a rough one, huh?" She smiled at the mirror.

The Lily in the mirror didn't smile back.

She blinked and her reflection was normal again. She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

_Caller_

She tensed. The shadows of the bathroom gathered in a corner and she eyed it from its reflection in the mirror. "Thana," she swallowed back the acid taste of fear. "I didn't think you could manifest without a window."

There was a moment of silence. "Lily."

Lily could feel her eyebrows crawl up into her hairline. "Congratulations," she strained as much pride as she could into the word as she turned around. "You've mana-"

There was nothing there.

She palmed her face. "I'm exhausted," she excused. "It is way too early and I need to sleep." Not to mention she was beginning to make a habit of talking herself. After toweling her hair, she slipped back underneath the covers and curled up next to James. Sighing, she slowly fell back asleep.

When James asked her in the morning what had happened to the bathroom mirror, Lily could only tell him the truth as she stared at the large crack that ran all the way through it.

She didn't know.

The Thana that visited Harry that day had a face. It was misshaped and ugly with lumps of malformed bone underneath scaly patches of skin. Harry had recoiled with all the innocence of a child that had just seen a monster. It left just as quickly as it had appeared. The next time it came, it was all shadows once more but instead of Harry it spent its time studying Lily. It followed her through the house as well as it could through the windows and during play time it drifted a bit closer than usual, fixated on her face.

Lily bore it with good humour even as her dreams seemed to stretch her thin and faded like a rag that was washed too many times. Sometime after the third day, she had placed their photo album in plain sight of the broken window and Thana had flipped through it curiously.

It didn't appear for five days after the photo album. Harry's birthday passed quietly, with only Sirius and Wormtail there to spoil the birthday boy. Remus was absent again. Significant looks were passed around over little Harry's head. Presents were opened, cake was eaten, jokes were made. When Lily carried a sleeping toddler up to his room, she was surprised to find someone already there.

But she would recognize those brilliant blue eyes anywhere.

"Thana?" It had done a good job, she was forced to admit. The pale skin it had taken a liking to was paired with long hair so dark it shone blue under the light. It had managed to give itself a delicate beauty that played off those eyes well. She tried to look for elements of Sirius or Narcissa or even herself in that face. She thought that maybe the nose belonged to Petunia which struck her as bizarre. "You certainly look different."

It stepped forward. "Lily," it rasped, its eyes were looking at her with such a fierce intensity she almost stepped back. "Harry?" It looked down at the sleeping boy with a something like _hunger. _"Harry friend?"

Lily hesitated. "Yes. Friends."

Thana held out a hand. A silver chain necklace with a sickle pendant hung from its fingers. The light caught in odd places and Lily realized that in between each chain link was a clear gemstone. "Oh…"

"Harry?"

"You-," she stopped herself. While collecting her thoughts, she placed Harry in his bed and absently kissed his forehead. "You got a gift for Harry?"

Thana blinked twice and Lily felt an unbidden smile steal onto her face. "That's very thoughtful of you. Why don't you put it on his end table?" It did so and gave Lily a lop-sided smile that was both heartwarming and entirely insincere at once. Lily couldn't help but respond to the obvious plea for acknowledgment. "Well done. I'm proud of you."

"Lily friend," it declared. Then it added, "Lily Caller."

"What exactly is a caller anyway?" The question popped out. "I keep having these dreams…"

Thana's face scrunched up the way Harry's did when he was puzzling through something. Thana held out a hand. "This side." The other hand was placed a bit apart. "Other." And then it chopped a hand in the middle. "Lily."

"So I acted as a bridge," Lily clarified. That was probably what giving her blood did, opened the way for Thana to manifest and exist in the material world. She knew blood was a bonding agent, just that none of the materials mentioned exactly _why. _"A path."

Thana was shaking her head. "Not," she struggled with the new word. "B-b-rrrridge." It pointed towards the broken window. "Let Other _in_."

Lily stared at the broken window. A cold suspicion was forming a ball of ice in her stomach. "Can the window close," she asked softly. At its confused look she opened and closed the door to Harry's room several times. "Can I close? Can I stop?" God, of course, the _dreams. _"Can I **stop?**"

Thana tentatively reached for her and Lily jerked out of reach so hard she nearly fell over. "Lily?" It almost looked hurt. "Lily friend?"

"I-I just need some space."

Thana didn't look convinced. "Caller," it crooned softly. It began to sing in an undertone, dulcet tones that were so familiar Lily's sight blurred with tears.

_Tha thung, shax ghhutla', ghaa't a tuftkan natk…_

Lily awoke in her bed, James lightly snoring next to her. She got up, confused and missing time. Two steps into the bathroom and something sharp sliced into her foot. "Owwwww, bloody hell," she looked around guiltily as if expecting her son to be just around the corner all too eager to try out new words. Awkwardly shuffling to the side, she blinked hard as she looked into the bathroom mirror. Or what used to be the bathroom mirror. Small pieces of glass were still attached to the frame, but most of the shards were on the floor and in the sink. Wordlessly, Lily sought out her ward and cast a quick _reparo _while studiously ignoring the gathering shadows she could _feel _in the corners of the room.

It was a routine that would become very familiar over the next two months.

* * *

_October 31__st__, 1981 Godric's Hollow_

* * *

Lily knew the exact moment James died.

It was as if something had taken hold of one half of her heart and ripped it away and she welcomed the pain. It had been so hard to feel anything around the song flitting through her thoughts, so hard to concentrate when she could close her eyes and see the burning shed. The runes continued to seduce her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear every time she went to sleep. It was impossible to resist. She tried. God, she tried.

_Tha thung, shax ghhutla', ghaa't a tuftkan natk…_

She had books, dozens of them. Writing down everything she could remember from the dreams, everything she could remember from the original research she burned in that _bloody shed_ and it was safe. It hadn't been until James had tried to read her feverish writings that she realized they were all in some kind of cypher or code. One that she read as easily as if it had been in English. And every time she thought she had written everything down, something new would reveal itself in her sleep and she'd have to write more, in the margins if necessary.

It would all go to her son, Dumbledore if necessary. He had the Cloak. He should _know-_

"I'm here, Harry," she tried to soothe her son as he fidgeted in his bed. "Mummy is here." The necklace glinted from where it lay around his neck, its sickle pendant creating a small bump in his shirt. "And I'm so _sorry…" _She had charmed a music box with the otherworldly lullaby, left it in the vault. The song was, it was _beautiful_ and _vast _and it wasn't _safe-_

The door slammed open.

_Bias ghhas shax ruiang, nu una ghuftft a'a knugh! Ia! IA!_

"Lily Potter," the sneering voice of Voldemort spoke from behind her. "I'm giving you one chance to stand aside, girl."

Lily looked over her shoulder at him, and then her eyes shifted to the broken window and back. It was strange, how she could stand there without a wand in front of the man she had spent the last two years desperately hiding from and not feel a thing. "No spells," she whispered.

The window darkened.

"Stand aside!"

She obeyed.

* * *

_Hundreds of years ago, the three Peverell brothers were travelling at twilight, and reached a river too dangerous to cross. The three brothers, being trained in the magical arts, simply waved their wands and created a bridge across the river. They were then stopped by Death himself, who felt cheated that they had gotten across the river…_


	2. Age

**_Deathly Hallowed_**

_The Tale of Three Brothers was not a legend. It was a warning. No one cheats Death. Luckily for Lily Potter, the promise of the Cloak's return in exchange for her son's life was a fair deal._

* * *

_How does one hallow something deathly? To hallow is to make sacred, make holy, to venerate. To christen with death perhaps? How does that work? Who does it? The Wand, the Cloak, the Stone. I'm missing something, I'm sure of it. - Lily Potter_

* * *

Dudley Dursely was seven years old when he realized that his cousin _really was _a freak. This revelation did not come easily. His mother insisted that the smaller boy wasn't _normal _and if Dudley wasn't careful he might catch it and then _he _wouldn't be normal either and then where would they be? But no matter how long or how hard Dudley stared at him after he had arrived, looking small and lost, Harry Potter didn't do anything strange.

Well. Harry did put ketchup on his eggs for breakfast but for some reason Dudley didn't think that was what his mom was talking about. But seriously though, who does that?

The black haired boy was okay, he supposed. He liked reading far too much, was scrawny, wore glasses and thought Superman could beat Batman, but he wasn't _bad. _However it seemed like every time he even thought about being nice to the other boy, his mum's voice would get all high pitched and loud and it just wasn't worth it. They kicked him out of the house after breakfast anyway.

The little bugger was fast though.

"C'mere Four-Eyes," Eddy sneered and Dudley rolled his eyes. He'd used that one to exhaustion already. It got old. "Just give it back and this won't get ugly!"

"He's gone, moron," he said, eyeing the trees. Everyone knew that if you let Harry get to the forest, you weren't going to catch him. "He won it fair and square anyway." That was another thing; his cousin was absolutely _brilliant _at card games. He'd have to ask Harry if he could play with his newest Wolverine action figure later.

"He cheated!" Eddy snarled, bunching up his fists. "He wins all the time! There's just no way!"

"Hey, man," Thomas, one of the older boys started to look around nervously. "It's getting kind of late and I'm technically grounded so…" The dam broke and all the other kids started making excuses for why they needed to go home too. Eddy's family was the wealthiest in the neighborhood. _Everyone _wanted to be his friend if only so they could get invited to his birthday parties. Last year, his parents had taken everyone out for laser tag in London.

Or so he'd heard. Harry had been sick that day and Aunt Lily made him promise that he'd look out for him. Harry never like Eddy anyway.

Disgusted, Eddy spat at the ground. "Fine, ok, I'll see you guys tomorrow," and then under his breath "I still say he cheated."

Dudley snorted. "It's your own fault." He knew from experience that accusing Harry of cheating just got him really hacked off. "I gotta go find him, see ya."

"Later, Dursely."

Easier said than done.

Usually, Harry just disappeared into the forest, and then when the rest of them skived off Dudley would just call him out and they'd go home for supper. Dudley had stood there for what must have been at least ten minutes feeling stupid shouting at shrubs and tree trunks before venturing into the forest himself.

"Harry!"

The sun was hanging low in the sky, a deep pink that filtered through the leaves and left spots of red on the ground. It was quiet. Dudley tried straining his ears to hear something, anything, but his own footsteps. Nothing. A crinkled brown leaf and a few dust motes swirled lazily in the air as he watched.

_There wasn't even wind._

"Harry?" A clearing. Full of dead leaves and stripped branches and Harry's bright green top stood out among the endless brown. "Harry, come on. We gotta go home." The other boy looked like he was slumped against a particularly gnarled and dead looking tree and Dudley frowned. What was he doing, sleeping? "Harry?" he called again, louder.

A chill ran down his spine as he crept closer. Details popped up. Harry's left shoe was half way off, its red shoelaces loose. Some pine needles dusted the boy's shoulders and a pine cone was nestled in Harry's hair, looking like it had just dropped from the sky onto him. And Harry's head was twisted in an odd direction.

"Harr-" His cousin's green eyes were still open behind the frames of his glasses. A broken branch. Harry's head. Blood was sluggishly dripping. Face frozen in a rictus of surprise and pain. Dudley stumbled backwards trying to get away from that blank stare and nearly threw up on himself.

_He's dead._

His first instinct was to run. Dad would be home soon. He would know what to do. He always knew what to do.

_He's dead. Your cousin is dead._

His second was to pull on his cousin's body, free him from the tree. He didn't actually see if the branch really was in Harry's head, there was always a chance he could be ok. They could call the hospital and he'd be ok.

_He's dead. You're supposed to look after him. Aunt Lily asked you to. It's your fault._

"Harry?" Dudley could barely hear his own voice. He couldn't just leave Harry here. But the very thought of touching the body made his skin crawl. This wasn't like when the boys had come across the cat that had been hit by a car, stiff on the side of the road. They had poked it with sticks for what seemed like hours and even then it had given him the creeps.

This was Harry.

Dudley took a deep breath and then screamed at the top of his lungs. "HARRY!"

The body jerked. The branch came free with a slight squelching noise as Harry fell backwards and landed on the leaf surface with a thud.

Dudley stared.

"Harry?"

The body groaned. "Dud? Wha-" Harry's limbs moved erratically and he heard the other boy hiss. "My head…"

"Don't touch it!" The sheer vehemence in his tone caught them both off guard. "You…" Dudley wasn't entirely sure what to say. "You've got a hole in your head," he finished lamely. Now that Harry wasn't right up against the tree, it was a really obvious puncture wound. The blood had congealed, almost black, and crusting around slivers of wood. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Oh," Harry said quietly. "Is it bad?"

"It-it's pretty nasty looking, yeah. You've got wood in it."

Harry sat up gingerly. "Do I have to go to the doctor? Is it bleeding a lot?"

Harry," Dudley said carefully, retrieving his cousin's sneaker and kneeling down next to him. "I think you died. It-It looks _really _bad." He tried to demonstrate how big the hole was by making a circle with his fingers. "It's this big and there is a lot of blood." He swallowed. "A lot."

"Oh." Harry reached up and despite Dudley's protests, prodded at his forehead. "It doesn't hurt that bad anymore."

"What happened?"

Harry flushed a little. "I tripped." He moved on quickly. "We gotta get home before your dad does."

"Mum's gonna flip when she sees you," Dudley pointed out, watching Harry get up with hawk like precision, ready to jump in if it looked like he needed help. "I think you're gonna have to sneak in."

"Bugger."

Both boys made the walk home in silence.

Number 7 St. Edward's Lane was a handsome house among handsome houses, with its own flair and appeal to audacity. Most of it was a deep red, interspersed brick and siding with highlights of green that perfectly matched the shade of Petunia Dursely's bane: climbing vines that scrawled up the right side of the house. Every wall more than two feet across had a window and at the very top was a little tower typical of the Victorian style. The garden was prize winning, the sidewalk was tidy and not one thing was out of place.

Perfect. Impressive. Spacious. Normal.

Had any of their neighbors looked out their windows just then, they might have seen a black haired boy prop a ladder against the side of the house leading to a second story window. They would have seen him wait around for a few minutes before that window opened from the inside and seen him scamper up the ladder into the house.

And then a few minutes later, see a larger blonde boy come out, yelling something to his mother about having left a toy outside, to take the ladder down and stash it back in the shed before running back in through the front door.

Dudley and Harry had it down to a science.

"Owwww…."

They were in the bathroom trying to clean out Harry's head wound with the shower head and some tweezers. It was just like the time Harry had tried Dudley's skateboard on a hill and wiped spectacularly at the bottom, except not, because there was no easy way to explain a hole in the head. They had certainly tried to come up with a working excuse why it really wasn't as bad as it looked. But then Harry mentioned he could see bits of his skull in the mirror so he was certain Petunia could too.

They gave up.

"Stop moving!"

The first time Dudley had broken off some dried blood and watched it swirl down the drain, he had thrown up. The second time he did it, Harry threw up. The third time, they both gagged. They kept at it.

"But it hurts!"

"Ok, got it." With a small plop, a wood splinter was dropped into the toilet. Dudley took a step back and eyed his handiwork critically. "I think it's smaller now."

"Let me see." Harry straightened from underneath the flow of water and stepped onto the stool in order to peer into the small bathroom mirror. He turned his head this way and that, pinkish water dripping down his face. "I can't see bone anymore, that's good right?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Dudley said snappishly. "Get down, I still have a few more."

Once he gave the pass, Harry dabbed a cotton swab with alcohol. Aunt Petunia usually used the white and red bottle downstairs with io-something in it, but it was in the top cupboard and none of them wanted the adults to ask just why Dudley wanted to get into the first aid kit. Harry insisted that he read alcohol was good to use too, so his cousin left him to it, being sure to only smile a little when Harry's eyes bugged out.

"It burns! Ow, ow, ow, ow…."

Dudley wrapped his head with makeshift bandages they mutilated a shirt with scissors for. "I'll get you food, ok?"

"Thanks, Dud."

During supper, his mum only glanced at the empty spot on the table, lips thinning until they almost disappeared but she didn't say anything. His dad didn't even notice, having stopped in to get his plate, kiss him mum on the cheek and ruffle his hair, before retreating to his study. Dudley picked at his food, pork chops, peas and mashed potatoes, uncertain.

If Harry was still out there slumped against that tree with a blank stare and broken glasses, how long would it have taken them to notice?

His mum didn't question him when he asked her to make a plate for Harry, putting one of the smallest pieces of meat on it and half as many potatoes.

"Now Dudley, Mrs. Pelletier is having a salon at her home tonight so I have to go. Be good, don't disturb your father, he's working hard tonight."

Dudley shoved some peas around. "He's always working hard," he muttered. He made a face when she kissed him, smelling like some kind of flower.

"Don't be like that. He wants you to have the best." She checked the time and grabbed her bag. "Be good." He knew she didn't really mean it. _Be good. _It was just something she said. She always tried to blame Harry anyway.

"Ok. Have fun, mum."

She stopped and gave him an odd, wistful look. "I will."

As soon as he heard the car drive away, Dudley dumped his uneaten food onto Harry's plate and carried it upstairs. Harry's room was at the far end of the hall and up a half flight of stairs, the smallest one in the house. Harry himself was lying on his bed, watching the ceiling and fiddling with his girlish piece of jewelry.

"It's pork chops tonight."

Harry turned his head a little. "Do you think she's ok?"

Dudley blinked and set the food on the small desk in the corner. There was really only one person he'd ask about like that. "It's been months. Hard to say." He shrugged. "What brought this on?"

"I thought I saw her." His voice was very tiny. "Just for a bit, talked to me and everything."

"You mean while you were…"

"Yeah."

There was silence as Dudley tried to figure out what to say. "What about?" His own voice mimicked Harry's, becoming very quiet.

Harry rolled onto his side, propping his head up with a hand. His brow furrowed and Dudley could see a bit of red speckling the bandages on his head. "I'm not sure. Something about a door," he looked up towards the ceiling, chewing on his lip. "She kept saying I was too young, that I haven't even gotten my letter yet, and…" Harry was really thinking now. "Death is mine," he murmured.

_Death is mine. _

"What?" Dudley choked. That phrase pulsed in his head. "What?"

"She said death was mine, but the door, the door was still open and others could come through."

Dudley tried not to look as confused as he felt. "What others?"

"I don't know!" Harry flung himself back down onto his bed and flopped an arm across his eyes. After a bit, he lifted his arm just enough so that he could sneak a peek at his cousin. "Was I really dead?"

"You looked dead."

Harry prodded his forehead again. "That's so _cool!_"

The wound was gone by the very next day.

* * *

Harry Potter was eight and a half years old when he made his first magical friend. Granted, she was a girl and _everyone _knew that girls weren't as good as boys, but she could _do magic_. She also never tried to braid his hair or make him do _girl _things, so Harry was quite willing to make an exception. She was his age with black hair like him, eyes that were this really neat shade of blue and a wicked sense of humour.

Their first meeting hadn't exactly been the best but in Harry's defense, she had kind of come across like a know-it-all, messed with his Snake-Eyes action figure without permission and had broken his window.

Why'd she have to break the window?

"My window is broken," was the first thing that came out of Harry's mouth that morning. After a vaguely disturbing dream where he was watching a shed burn down and felt like something was _watching_ _him _he'd woken up freezing with pieces of his window all over the floor.

Aunt Petunia was going to go absolutely bloody barmy.

"Why's my window broken?" Harry asked the room fuzzily, still half asleep.

"I do that, sorry" an unfamiliar voice said not sounding the slightest bit apologetic. "What's this?"

Harry looked out of half lidded eyes around his room and then snapped wide awake when he saw a girl with his collector's edition Snake-Eyes action figure in her hand. "Hey! Don't touch that!" He tried jumping out of bed in order to take it from her but ended up getting his foot caught in the sheets. He went down, pin wheeling his arms desperately, caught on to the girl and took her down with him.

Harry froze for a second, straining his ears. He expected to hear either his aunt or uncle getting up to investigate the noise. Nothing.

Whew.

"Gimme that," he hissed, swiping it from her hand before getting up.

"I was just looking at it!" she retorted and crossed her arms angrily. "What's wrong with that?"

"You didn't ask!" Harry snapped, gently placing Snake-Eyes back with his other GI Joe friends on the bookshelf. He painfully swallowed his first answer. His mother had gotten it for him. Everything else was fair game, but not these. Not even Dudley would touch these. "Who are you anyway? How'd you get in here?"

The girl rolled her eyes and Harry was struck by how _blue _they were. "What, you can't remember?" She huffed, still sitting on the floor. "I'm Thana, you're Harry."

"What do you mean, 'you're Harry?'" he said suspiciously, starting to get really irritated. "I don't know you."

She goggled. "You don't know your name?"

"Of course I know my name!" Harry could feel his face warm up and hoped he wasn't turning purple like Uncle Vernon. "Why do _you_ know what my name is?"

She put a hand behind her and-Harry realized with a start- sunk into her shadow. It gathered around her arm and when she pulled her hand back it, it was clutching a small toy of a stuffed wolf. She placed it in front of him then looked up expectantly. "Well?"

Harry picked it up and looked over it. "It's a stuffed animal." He said flatly, trying to ignore just how she got it. That certainly wasn't _normal._ "What am I supposed to do with this?"

The girl flushed a fetching pink. "I think I liked you better when you could barely talk," she grumped before retrieving three other animal toys from her shadow. A black dog. A rat that squeaked when squeezed. A deer. She introduced them, pausing in between each name as if waiting for him to do…something. "Moony. Padfoot. Wormtail. Prongs."

Harry just stared. "Ok."

"I saved them, you know, from the house after…" she trailed off as she watched Harry put 'Moony' down with the other animals. "They're your favorite toys," she insisted.

Harry glared. "I don't play with _stuffed animals," _he sneered. "That's for _girls and babies."_

She glared right back at him. "Oh, so you play with dolls instead?"

He wasn't going to let that one slide. "They aren't dolls! They're action figures!"

"They are too!"

"They are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

At some point she had gotten right up in his face, blue eyes practically glowing. "Are too," she whispered.

"Are. Not."

She eyed him for a moment. "You're a right berk, you know that?"

"Are not," Harry said immediately, insulted. Her lips twitched. Once. Twice. She stepped back, giggling.

"Are too."

The knot of righteous anger in his chest eased. Now that he thought about, the argument was kind of funny…he felt himself smile slightly. "Are not."

She laughed out loud. "Let's start over, ok? I'm Thana. Wanna be friends?" She held out an expectant hand.

He took it.

* * *

"Blue octopus."

From that day on, the three of them were inseparable. Dudley would try his hardest to keep Harry out of trouble while Thana tried her best to get him into it and Harry enjoyed the attention from both of them. A certain clearing in the forest became 'their' spot, right under a large pine tree that had a shard of a low hanging branch sticking out. It still had blood on it.

"Go fish."

"Aww."

It had taken Dudley a while to accept the newest addition, turning a duo into a trio and he refused to tell Harry why he had so much trouble with that. Harry personally thought it was because she was a girl, so he made her promise not to try anything with their hair or makeup or play house or anything like that in front of Dudley. A _man's _promise, where they spit on their hands and shake too so he knew she was taking it seriously. She really wasn't like other girls. They all thought doing that was gross. She had seemed fascinated.

"Red crab."

"Go fish."

"Yellow starfish?"

"Go fish."

"You picked up two cards! Put one back."

"Sorry, purple octopus."

Sigh. "Here."

It had taken a lot of arguing over two weeks before Dudley agreed to let him tell Thana what happened that day with the tree. She had sat still through all of it, eyes as large as dinner plates. She asked a ton of questions but even as he satisfied her curiosity, he got the odd feeling that she knew all the answers already. Maybe not all of them, the fact that it had hurt had seemed like news, but everything else.

"Harry, got any blue crabs?"

"Go fish. Green jellyfish."

"Damn!"

Then she had showed Dudley her shadow trick and it was his turn to have big eyes. Harry had already seen it, of course, and that made him feel a little bit superior. _He _hadn't reacted like that. The feeling faded when he remembered that he _had _been a bit mean instead. He had pulled Thana aside afterwards and apologized. She laughed it off, saying that he owed her a game.

Weeks passed, and she had yet to call it in. Harry couldn't help but wonder what kind of game she meant, considering they had to teach her all of _their _games.

"Green starfish!"

"No. Go fish. Purple whale."

"Yup. Red crab?"

Dudley groaned as he handed the card over and Harry triumphantly laid out all his pairs. Thana fell backwards onto the leaf cushion of the forest floor, letting her cards spill out of her hands.

"That's the third time in a row!" She whined. Harry cackled as he collected his winnings: a Jolly Roger from each of them. Already he had Thana's Mars bar and ate half of her last cookie and Dudley's KitKat.

"I've never beaten him at cards," Dudley admitted sourly as he collected everyone's hands. "It doesn't even matter which game. He's just really lucky."

"Or you guys are terrible." Harry laughed as Thana threw a handful of leaves at him. "I'm kidding!" He leaned back against the tree, casting an eye over the games they had brought with them. Several sandwich wrappers and empty juice boxes had been tossed carelessly into a trash pile off to the side along with a paper plate that had once carried a small batch of chocolate chip cookies.

Thana hadn't known what to do with the juice box until Dudley showed her and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that she never had cookies before either. Not for the first time, Harry wondered where she came from.

What kind of awful place didn't have cookies?

"We can play Monopoly." Dudley scratched a bug bite on his arm. "Or Jurassic Park. Harry's not gonna win those."

Harry swatted at a mosquito and ignored his cousin's jab. "Board games are always a bit long, do we have time before Uncle Vernon gets home?"

All three of them looked up at the sky. It was a darkening blue of summer with a hint of orange near the horizon. Every so often a bird call would sound out deeper in the forest, deep and warbling and a breeze kicked up around them. Dudley shook his head and started to wrap a rubber band around the Go Fish deck.

"I don't think so, Harry."

The boy nodded, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Yeah, alright." He stuffed his candy into his pants and started picking up the games. "See you tomorrow, Thana." She helped pack up and followed them out of the forest to the edge of the street.

"Bye," Dudley started tromping down the street. Harry followed. "Today was fun."

_Harry._

The black haired boy stopped, and turned back to her. "Yeah?"

Thana had an odd half smile on her face. "You owe me a game, remember?"

Harry looked uncertainly down the street where Dudley was getting further and further away. "I have to go home for supper…"

"Not now, silly." She rocked back and forth on her heels. "I go hunting at night and I thought you might want to come along?"

"Hunting?" He'd heard some of the older boys talking about going on hunting trips with their dads and bragging about how wide the antlers were on some of the deer they killed, or how many pelts they got. "What are we hunting?" There was no way he was passing this up.

Her smile had widened at the word 'we.' "A bit of everything really. I'll get you."

Harry smiled happily. "Great! See you!"

She came to get him in the dead of night, tossing rocks through his still broken window and jerking him awake.

"Harry!"

He rushed to the window. "Shhh! Keep it down!" he said in a harsh whisper. "I'm up!" He ran a weary hand across his face. "_Now?_"

He could hear her giggle. "Come on, Potter!"

Turning away from the window, Harry sighed. This was weird. Shrugging, he got to it, putting on canvas pants and sneakers and a flannel jacket. He snuck downstairs, pressed tightly against the wall so that the steps wouldn't creak and nabbed an electric torch from underneath the sink. And then, after a second thought, grabbed a cookie and stuffed it into his mouth. Unlatching the front door, he slipped outside.

She met him at the side of the house, looking far to chipper. "Finally."

"What's this all about then?" Harry frowned slightly. For some reason, his torch light wasn't nearly as bright as it should have been. Were the batteries going? He jiggled it as a breeze tickled the air by his ears. No good. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'll get some fresh batteries-"

She stopped him. "It's alright. Look, I want you to meet my pets."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "So…we're going to your house?" This was really weird. If she wanted to show off a puppy or something, couldn't it have waited for a more reasonable time?

She rolled her eyes. "Just close your eyes for a sec."

Harry drew back, suddenly wary. "You aren't going to kiss me, are you?" Harry Potter didn't do kisses. And 'just close your eyes' was a suspicious line if he ever heard one.

Thana shrugged off the question. "Or you can watch." As she spoke, his light continued to dim until it was just a pin prick and the half-moon slipped behind a cloud. And then the shadows of his house _moved._

"Wha-" Thana caught him as he tried to back away. Her grip was like steel.

_Watch._

They twisted, undulating and deepened, crawling, expanding. It slipped down from the side of the house like some thick liquid, pooling in front of them. A ripple spread across it like someone had thrown a pebble. Then another. Harry leaned forward as much as he dared, looking into it. It was _dark_ and for a moment Harry felt like he would lean too far and fall forever into an abyss.

_Listen. _

Something spoke. A deep reverb shook all the way through him. The surface of the pool became agitated, shifting.

_Look._

An eye opened gigantically within the shadow—a planet taking notice—and it _saw him._

The pool erupted.

_Things_ rose from it, almost canine shaped but when he tried to really _look_ his vision blurred and the blood rushed through his ears. He could hear them barking, snapping, growling. The shadowy mess coagulated into three varying forms, dozens of eyes peered out at him and found him wanting.

"It's not a hunt without hunting dogs, right?" Thana said cheerfully. "War, Famine and Plague."

Harry swallowed. He was gripping his torch so tight he was surprised the plastic casing wasn't cracking under the pressure. "What are we hunting?" he whispered.

She laughed. "What else?"

She brought him to what must have been the scummiest part of London and he wasn't even sure how she did it. One moment he was outside of his house, the next moment there was a shade of black leaving his eyes and he was somewhere else. Her hand was firmly holding on to his shoulder and the…dogs were somewhere behind them from the sounds. She was looking around the alley curiously.

"Alright, there's this man that's dodged the coppers for years," she was whispering into his ear. "Murderer." Footsteps approached the alley. "Dumps the bodies here. I say we catch him ourselves."

Harry was shaking his head. This wasn't what he wanted. "No, no, no, no.."

The silhouette of an adult male appeared at the entrance to the alley way. Harry froze. Only his eyes moved as the man hauled something off his shoulders and dropped it onto the street. Job done, the man left and Harry could feel himself shaking. Thana let go of him and he stumbled forward.

It was a body.

A small body.

'No, no, no, no…" It was a girl with golden curls and still wearing footsie pajamas with red rabbits on them. One of the rabbits on her chest looked like it had exploded, red was everywhere. Harry couldn't breathe.

_Harry. _

He looked up. Thana jerked her head towards the alleyway exit. "He's getting away."

"Why?" Harry choked out. "Why would-."

"Do you want him to do this to someone else?" Thana snapped, irritated. "To another family?"

_Go._

Harry was already moving.

One of the dogs ran beside him, wuffing as it nudged him. Its fur felt like solid ink and down feathers. It bumped him again.

"Get on!"

He rode with her dogs and he could feel how much they enjoyed the chase. They moved like greased lightning, from one shadow to another tracking the prey down. Warmth bubbled in his chest when they caught the scent, adrenaline rushed through him as they ran it down. Thana's laughter was infectious. He felt light headed and weightless, moving with them, like he could do anything.

Like a super hero, taking out the bad guys.

"I love being on _this side!_" Thana whooped loudly, riding War. Harry grinned at her.

She never let him watch the catch, distracting him with a touch or whisking him away to another location. They coordinated. He would take War and cut him or her off here…Plague was the fastest runner so it could carry Harry to here…Famine could double back and wait in ambush here…and every time one of Harry's plans succeeded he felt a rush of satisfaction.

Taking out the bad guys.

And he made sure it was only bad guys too. Making sure to ask before they marked someone for the chase:

_What did they do?_

Did they deserve it, having War, Famine and Plague hunt them down through the streets? Did they deserve being pursued by rippling and snarling shadows? The fear when they realized that _something was out to get them?_

_Did they deserve it?_

Harry wouldn't be able to pin down the exact moment Thana began to distract him before the chase as well. He wouldn't be able to tell when her answers to his questions started getting vague and generic until it could have described just about anyone. He didn't know why he was so in tune with the dogs, why they seemed to _leak _ever so slightly into him, when he felt flushed and breathed hard like he ran a marathon without moving. His pendant hung on his neck and shone brightly.

_Did they deserve it?_

_Of course, of course. They all deserved it._

When he stumbled into his bed that night, the memories were already fading. He wouldn't be able to say what it was exactly their targets did, what was so terrible about them that justified the Hunt. Who they hurt, what they hid.

Or when he stopped asking and just enjoyed the ride.

* * *

_And Death, being an accomplished liar, appeared to congratulate the brothers offering to give them a gift of their own choosing for being clever enough to evade him. The eldest brother, a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death!_


	3. Lily

**_Deathly Hallowed_**

_The Tale of Three Brothers wasn't a legend. It was a warning. No one cheats Death. Luckily for Lily Potter, the promise of the Cloak's return in exchange for her son's life was a fair deal._

* * *

_The Potters had the cloak. THE Cloak. I can't believe it, all this time it has been passed down from father to son since the days of Ignotus Peverell right under their noses. Perfect invisibility and he didn't even think-! The Potter have the Cloak, who has the other two? The stone is an artifact, passed down through family lines as well? The wand could be anywhere. It chooses the wizard. - Lily Potter_

* * *

Petunia Dursely would be the first person to say that her nephew Harry was a good boy. And he was. He was polite and courteous, the teachers at the local primary school always had good things to say about his studious nature and he kept his head down and his nose clean. Petunia wasn't one to lie to herself, she knew that Harry didn't deserve to be treated the way she did. He probably never would deserve it, but she just couldn't like the boy, for the same exact reason she found it hard to like Dudley's new friend, Thana:

_Magic. _

She could tell the girl was from one of those wizarding families, the way she looked at the telly or the phone with an expression of barely disguised curiosity. She heard when the boys had to explain what a car was, how to eat a Popsicle, the concept of working for a living. She pressed her lips real tight when her Dudley bought the girl a charm bracelet with his allowance and Harry a Batman action figure. She swallowed the ugly frown and bit her tongue and bought them all chocolate muffins when all she wanted to do was shake her son and scream-

_They're going to leave you!_

Because they would. Like so much of last year's trash full of sentimental knick knacks and useless treasures. She could see it happening. Harry and Thana would turn eleven and a little white owl would deliver their neatly written new life. They would disappear for a day and leave Dudley at home while they got their robes and their books and _their wands. _

And they would be so excited, of course.

_Petunia! Petunia! Look at what I can do!_

They would shoot sparkles every which way in brilliant colors and her son would have to smile and try to be happy for them (and he would be happy for them, that was her boy) because, oh, wasn't magic wonderful? They would promise to write, to share and they would, a lot, at first. They would get older, meet up for the holidays, make new friends.

The letters would get sparse.

Dudley would end up fancying Thana because anyone could see that she was a pretty girl and would no doubt get prettier (much like anyone could see that Lily was much prettier than her sister and by the time she was eighteen, Petunia _hated _hearing Lily's name) and get his heart broken by a spoiled princess who already had anything she ever wanted and poor Dudley, with no magic, couldn't even hope to compete-

_James Potter. Nice to meet you…Petunia, was it? _

There were hints of it even now, the way Dudley would try to get her attention and was quick to console her after a losing a game. And hints in _her. _A little precocious, a little arrogant, a little demanding in the way a child who didn't quite realize 'no' was actually a word would act. And always unfailingly distracted by the shiniest thing in the room. Maybe it would be some no-name wizard with gold and a title that didn't really mean anything, but it would _happen._

They would meet up for hols and for a short time it would just be the three of them like they never left, but they would have plans for the summer. Places to go, other friends to visit. They'd get buried in work and resolve to send a letter, waiting for the tomorrow that would never come. Excuses would be made.

_I had to study for the OWLS!_

_I was just so caught up in my NEWTS, the year just flew by._

They'd graduate, no doubt with honors, in classes Dudley only heard of in passing, planning for careers he didn't know existed.

_Auror. Cursebreaker. Mediwitch. Quiddith Chaser._

They'd meet up, fresh out of school, and realize they had nothing to say to each other. They would try to keep in touch because they were sist cousins and the conversations would drag on awkwardly. Harry wouldn't dream of letting Dudley drift. He'd regale him with stories he should have written down and sent but never did, demonstrate spells his cousin couldn't copy, play a few 'harmless' pranks only someone with magic could escape.

Casual reminders of what they were becoming bitter memories of a time when it was just two little boys and a little girl promising to be friends forever. Harry with Lily's eyes, Dudley with hers, Thana, black haired and pale. Echoes through time. A train wreck. Petunia knew she would get a front row seat at watching history play out again and this time it was _her son._ When Harry's eleventh birthday dawned, she felt as if a storm was on the cusp of breaking (And maybe it was).

_Hi, Mrs. Dursley!_

_Come in, Thana. The boys are in the living room._

She had made sure to tell Dudley that he was special, he was smart and a handsome boy. That nothing was his fault, that his parents wanted the best for him. He got an extravagant amount of presents every year (and she turned away to bite her hand whenever he gave some of them away to Harry) and that he should never try to be like his cousin, Harry. He shouldn't want to. Everything her parents never did for her (it was always Lily this, and Lily that, and guess what Lily did? Isn't it amazing?).

_Hel- You!_

_Hello, Petunia. _

_You've got a lot of nerve showing up here, why after you dumped your boy on our doorstep-_

_I'm taking him, alright? I've got his letter._

_Oh so now that he's magical, you decide you want him, is that it? Heaven forbid he's actually normal like the rest of us-_

_Petunia, please._

_…Alright. I—alright. They're in the living room._

_What's he like?_

She hoped it would be enough.

_Like you, Lily. Like you._

* * *

Laughter reigned Number 7 St. Edward's Lane with iron jokes and deadly tickles, just the way Harry liked it. It was hard to care that his birthday had passed by largely unremarked a few days ago, not when he got presents and well wishes from everyone he really cared about and a surprise gift from Mr. Dursley.

Thana and Dudley couldn't see how it was gift worthy, protesting almost too loudly, but that was ok: Harry thought the encyclopedia set was just _brilliant. _He'd wanted it for years. Dudley got him a book on shuffling techniques; giving him a wink and making him promise to work in a casino when he got older as his mother screeched from behind them. Thana's gifts always looked ridiculously expensive and that year was no different with an obsidian and silver chess set. Aunt Petunia had only given him a blueberry muffin with a single candle in it, but he had thanked her profusely all the same.

She had remembered that blueberry was his favorite and that was enough.

"I expect to see the food all on the plates where it belongs, do you understand me?"

"Yes, mum."

"Alright, Aunt Petunia."

"Of course, Mrs. Dursley."

Harry tried not to smile guiltily as he brought his plate closer to him and tried to pretend that spot of tomato sauce on the floor wasn't there. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Thana shoot him a highly amused look. He glared warningly at her, sneaking a napkin. She rolled her eyes, but stayed quiet until Petunia left them alone to answer the doorbell.

"You're a slob, Harry."

Harry scowled around a bite of his pizza. "So you keep telling me."

"So stop it."

He let out a very put upon sigh as Dudley snickered. They hadn't changed, not really. Dudley was still the tallest, Mr. Dursley's penchant for signing his son up for every sport available slimming his frame. Harry had long since gotten tired of his unruly hair, or perhaps more accurately, Petunia had gotten tired of it and had chopped it all off. His glasses were a gift from two birthdays ago: rectangular, thin silver wire frames. Thana had grown like a weed to become the second tallest of the trio, with hair that seemed to go through growth spurts of its own and brushed the back of her knees in a low hanging ponytail.

"How come you aren't going to Dauntsey's, you think?" Dudley peeled a stray mushroom off his pizza and tossed it onto Harry's plate. "Where else are you going to school?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Aunt Petunia said my parents went to a school up in Scotland. Hogwarts. A bloody strange name if you ask me." Some tired part of him swelled with excitement whenever he thought about going to same school his mum and dad did, but most of him didn't like the idea at all. "That's really far away though, why can't I just stay here?"

Thana seemed to find the wall extremely interesting. "Maybe you can."

"No use worrying about it," Dudley cut in. "We've still got summer and hols, right? We'll be fine." He paused. "Scotland though…"

"Yeah…" Harry put on a brave face. "I'll get you a kilt for your next birthday."

"You better not," Dudley growled. Thana rolled her eyes ("Boys.") as she scooted backwards and gave Dudley a clear line of fire to his cousin.

Harry smirked. "I don't know…what do you think, Thana? Dress and skirt kind of bloke, isn't he?"

She held her hands out, palms up as her lips curled slightly at the ends. "I know better than to say anything." Both boys could clearly see that she _was _thinking it. Dudley lunged first, snagging the back of Harry's shirt and using it to yank him into a headlock and started giving Harry a painful noogie.

"You aren't getting me a kilt!" He rubbed harder. "Say it! Say it!"

"I—It's!" Harry struggled. "It's going to be a manly shade of pink!" He yelped as Dudley really bore down on him. "Thana! Save me!"

"Tough luck."

"Traitor!"

"BOYS!" Petunia's voice cracked like a whip. Harry was unceremoniously dropped and could vaguely hear Dudley apologize and an unfamiliar voice lightly admonishing him for the rough handling of her-

Harry froze with his cheek pressed against the wood grains of the Dursley's living room. Of her _son._

"Mum?" He wanted to believe, he wanted to believe, he wanted to-

Her voice had a smile in it. "I'm here, Harry."

She was perfect. Shoulder length red hair with a peculiar shock of white that barely touched upon a peculiar lightning bolt shaped scar, eyes just like _his, _a little shorter than Petunia and, and she was _perfect _and she was _here _and he _wasn't going to cry…_

Lily Potter let out a small sound as Harry bowled her over and he felt a pang of guilt as he heard her elbow make a painful acquaintance with the wall. "Sorry," he murmured. She just squeezed him tighter. "You're really here."

Her laugh was watery. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me now."

Harry was fine with that.

With Harry attached to her like a limpet, the conversation about magic and Hogwarts was twice as awkward as Lily expected it to be. She should have known that Petunia would only tell her son the absolute bare bones, namely that it was something that _abnormal _people did. She really should have known. At least Dudley was taking it well. Kind of.

"Magic."

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Uh huh."

Dudley looked at Harry for a moment. "Huh." He, personally, would have put money down on Harry being a mutant like Wolverine but magic works too. "I knew it was something."

Harry laughed into her side. "Never change, mate. Never change."

Lily tilted her head and sought out a certain pair of blue eyes. Thana let her hold the gaze for a few moments.

_Lily._

And then looked away. She was going to have to deal with that. Soon. Later. Lily nicked a slice of pizza and pulled Harry down with her onto the white leather sofa. Ignoring Petunia's pinched look of disapproval with ease, she glanced down at the spot next to her meaningfully and didn't let up until Thana curled up into the unoccupied space.

"Hogwarts has four houses," she began. "Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff…"

'Later' was two days away. They packed Harry's room into cardboard boxes and crates leaving the small guest room bare of everything except an old bookcase, a small lacquered wooden desk and the bed. Good riddance. She took a long look around the room, making sure she had shrunken everything, before heading down the stairs. Petunia had been cleaning the house almost religiously, as if her presence alone was enough to contaminate the home. She was scrubbing the wall as if it had personally offended her and after a moment's hesitation, Lily left her to it.

It wasn't worth it.

Harry and Dudley were on the lawn, tossing a ball back and forth when she called Thana over. Judging from the unhappy expression on the girl's face, she was already anticipating an unpleasant conversation. In some ways, that made it easier.

"I'm going to need you to give Harry back his magic."

"But _why_," the girl whined. Her eyes were locked on her feet. "He's _better _like this."

Lily could feel her lips purse. "Thana, look at me." A doeful flash of blue before her eyes shifted away again. Lily tilted the girl's head up with a slender finger. "Look at me, please." She waited for a beat, marveling at the fact that after everything had been said and done; gaining a second child had been the very last thing she expected to happen. "He needs it and it's not yours. Give it back."

"I can keep him safe!"

"No, Thana," Lily corrected gently. "You can keep his body _alive _but you can't keep him safe."

Thana bit her lip. 'But I don't want to."

"I know, sweetheart." She brushed a few strands of dark hair out of Thana's face, and drew her small frame into a loose hug. Her heart thumped hard in her chest when she felt thin arms hug her back. "But you have to."

"It's not going to be the same," Thana whispered into her ear. Lily's blood froze. "I had it. It won't ever be the same." It was exactly what she didn't want to hear. Taking a deep breath, she forced her voice into a calm even tone.

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it." With Fiendfyre, if necessary.

"I'm sorry."

Lily rubbed comforting circles on the girl's back. "It's alright. It's alright."

Thana stepped back from her_. Pulsed. _Her shadow twisted, stabbing outwards in an array of spikes and hooks and claws. A few eyes tried to open within it, but within a few seconds her silhouette began to settle, seething. Lily took out the envelope; the crest of Hogwarts embossed in green on the front and watched the lettering appear:

_Harry J. Potter_

_Front lawn, Number 7 St. Edwards Lane_

_Wiltshire, Great Britain_

She looked up and felt her thanks crumble and die on her tongue. The girl was leaning against the house, pain etched into her furrowed eyebrows and dazed eyes, her shadow rippling. "Lily…" Black was seeping into Thana's eyes, ink dripping into a shallow pond. "_Hurts_."

_hOm__**E fthftha uss'ia ghuth r'aa**_

A flash of black.

Gone.

* * *

Harry fidgeted as his mum looked down at him critically, wand in hand. He would have never imagined that a few days after teasing Dudley with a kilt, his mother would use magic to change his polo shirt and jeans into a dress. Never ever ever. His hands drifted over the front of his robes, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. "Do I have to wear this?" He was not quite whining.

His mum's lips curved into a wry smile. With a wave of her wand, her own clothing warped. "Unfortunately."

"Thana's coming too, right?" No doubt she would viciously take the piss out of him but, as bad as he felt for thinking it, it would be another familiar face. He loved his mother. He just didn't _know _her. The train ride to London was mostly spent in a slightly uncomfortable silence. There was too much he wanted to say and just no good way to say it.

_Why'd you leave me?_

She gave him a thoughtful frown. The kind adults gave kids that really should be told something but the adult in question had no idea what to say. She started off slowly. "Thana…has an allergy to active magics." Seeing the 'wait a minute' expression on his face, she hurriedly added: "Of the wanded kind. Wands don't agree with her. At all." Aware that she wasn't very convincing, Lily palmed her face. "It's mostly the truth."

Mostly. Harry dropped the subject. "How are we getting there?"

"Well," she gave him a one armed hug. "Count to three."

1.

2.

3—

She turned on her heel.

It was like being forced through a thin rubber tube. Some parts of him stretched, others contracted, his eyes felt like they were trying to pop out of his skull, his bones liquefied; he couldn't breathe—

There was a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. They were in a void. His necklace and the shock of white hair on Lily's head glowed with soft light. And there was a feeling, as if an entire stadium of eyes had turned to focus on him, seeing right through him, wanting to get **_in_**—

The tube again. They popped out the other side. Harry stumbled and bent over double, bile welling up in his throat. "Is it always like that?" he panted. Breathe in, breathe out.

His mum made a small negative noise. "I don't think I'm ever doing that again, actually." She sounded distracted. "Maybe just…no. Never mind." He felt her lay a gentle hand on his back. "Are you alright?"

Harry took a deep breath and straightened. His stomach shifted, but didn't rebel. It looked like he was going to make it. He nodded to her.

She eyed him but nodded back. "This is behind a pub called the Leaky Cauldron." She made her way to a brick wall. "And _this," _she said with relish; withpracticed movements she tapped on several bricks with her wand. The wall opened, one brick at a time folding away to reveal a cobbled street right out of a story. Harry's mouth dropped open. "This is Diagon Alley."

He followed her in and he just couldn't turn his head fast enough. There were shops selling telescopes, rolls of parchments, potion bottles, globes of the moon, strange silver implements he had no idea what they used for, one window boasted barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes and another had several flapping owls on display. He just knew the largest grin was on his face. His mum smiled back at him. At first the other people on the street parted as they made their way through, then one person seemed to take a second look at his mother and gasped loudly.

"Well, I'll be! If it isn't Lily Potter!" A dam broke and people crawled out of the woodwork and hobbled out of store fronts to swarm them. Lily's hands were grabbed by what must have been dozens of people, some just wanted to lay a finger on her robes or the white lock of hair and she looked more strained by the moment.

"You did a great thing for us, Mrs. Potter—"

"Mrs. Potter! I'm Alias Woosworth, my dad was an auror when You-Know-Who—"

"Lily, lass, pleased to finally meet—"

"The greatest witch of our time, I say—"

"How did you do it, Mrs. Potter? How did you—"

There was a loud BANG and the crowd parted reluctantly before a cold looking blonde woman holding her wand aloft. "And you call yourselves witches and wizards," she sneered. "Barking like dogs in the street, honestly." She marched right up to them, grabbed hold of Lily's arm and pulled her along through the throng. Harry was right on their heels. "Lily," the woman said flatly in what could barely pass as a greeting.

"Narcissa," his mum answered in the same tone. "Feeling generous, are we?"

They were lead into a quiet shop full with shelves upon shelves of plants, animal parts and reagents. Harry wrinkled his nose at one particular item: a crup brain suspended in a glass jar. What was this place?

"I'd take payment in blood," Narcissa said dryly making Harry look at her in alarm. "But I know how you feel about things like that."

Lily pinched the bridge of her nose. "That was a joke, Harry." Her fingers began to make small circles as if staving off a headache. "She's pants at them."

The other woman smiled a tight, insincere smile. "You haven't been here in years, what did you expect to happen?"

An arm was waved in the vague direction of the street. Harry noticed a few people were trying to inconspicuously take peeks through the window. "Not that." After a moment, Lily sighed. "The better question would be: why did you help?"

Narcissa tutted, straightening her light blue and white robes fastidiously. "Perhaps I felt sorry for you. Perhaps it was disgusting seeing full grown witches and wizards acting like a bunch of schoolboys around a new broom. Perhaps I was curious. Perhaps I want you to feel indebted to me." She tossed her head arrogantly. "Pick one."

"All of them," Lily snapped immediately. Narcissa adopted a pleasantly surprised expression.

"You _are _learning. Now, introduce me."

Lily narrowed her eyes but reluctantly complied. "This is my son, Harry. Harry," she let out a long-suffering sigh as the other woman gave her a sharp look. "This is Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy."

Harry looked between the two uncertainly. Narcissa was rather tall and slim, her blonde hair pulled back and pinned with an expensive looking clip. Her eyes were a pale blue that rather reminded him of two chips of ice. "A pleasure to meet you ma'am," he murmured and then, on a whim, bowed at the waist.

"Such a polite young man. I was afraid he'd be more like his mother." Harry wanted to protest, but the warning look his mum sent him made him bite his tongue. "Now, where is your other one? Anna, I think her name was…"

"Thana." The un-amused look on Lily's face made Harry think that Narcissa got the name wrong on purpose. "She doesn't get her letter until next year."

Narcissa tapped her wand on her shoulder. "Ah, yes, that was it, wasn't it?" A calculating look was sent his way and a chill went down his spine. He shifted and from the way her eyes sharpened to a point below his chin, he could tell she had caught a glimpse of his necklace. "Oh, how interesting…" She flashed him a quick smile. "I dare say you should make a good friend for my son, Draco."

Harry shrugged. If he was anything like his mother, then most likely not. "I can't make any promises, ma'am."

A blonde eyebrow quirked. "Slytherin, correct?"

Harry ran over the houses in his mind quickly. Slytherin was the ambition one, right? "I'm hoping for Ravenclaw actually." Was that the one with the books? He thought it was. He had a feeling saying 'the one with the books' wouldn't win him any points though.

"The only other respectable House, even if it is second best." Harry could see Lily roll her eyes and mouth 'Gryffindor' at him. He could feel his lips twitch.

"Of course, ma'am."

"Come now, none of that ma'am' nonsense. We're relatives." Harry knew the confusion must have been plain on his face. "Ah, through your father. His great-aunt and mother were Blacks before marriage, as was I. Speaking of Blacks," Narcissa peered out into the street. "Sirius is visiting the Alley today."

His mum's face tightened. "Lovely."

Narcissa laughed. It was short and cold, but it was one. "Hex my favorite cousin for me will you?"

"Hex him? Why would I do that," Lily said sarcastically as Narcissa started moving towards the front of the store. "I rather enjoy being told what a horrible mother I am and awful human being because I happen to like researching Dark magic."

"Sirius was always one to see things in black and white. Pardon the pun." She paused just inside the doorway, a small mysterious smile on her face. "It was a pleasure, as always. We must meet up sometime, I insist." She glanced at Harry shortly before getting swallowed up by the river of people.

_Interesting._

Harry blinked not entirely sure he really heard her last word. What was interesting? "So."

"Well." Lily cleared her throat. "I'm famous. How about that?"

"What for?"

She absently touched the white lock of hair. "Breaking rules no one thought should be broken." She shook herself and gave him a restrained smile. "They call me the Witch-Who-Lived. It's…not great as far as titles go but enough of that!" She looked around the store. "While we're here, let's get started on your school supplies."

For Harry, time seemed to fly by. Every time he showed the slightest bit of interest in something, his mother dragged him into the shop to take a closer look. He must have spent at least two hours in the bookstore alone and was ready to swear by whatever spell his mother used to shrink all the purchases. Something very strange happened when they looked around in the pet shop. Lily made a bee line for the snakes and spent a few moments inspecting them. He saw her lips move but couldn't hear whatever it was she said to make the snakes start hissing and slithering around, animated. She seemingly pointed to one at random and declared it 'nice enough' and 'desperate to get out.'

Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about having a small snake wrapped around his wrist, but every time it moved it seemed his heart moved with it. A particularly snowy owl eyed him speculatively as they left the story. Soon after they ran across an unpleasant looking man with a hook nose and sunken cheeks dressed in all black robes that had a tendency to flair and billow impressively.

As Harry tried to figure out how he did that, his mother came to a slow stop. The two stared at each other from across the street.

"Severus."

"Lily."

And that was it. For the rest of the trip, Lily seemed to have lost every ounce of enthusiasm she had and just went through the motions. She perked up slightly as they approached a ragged and dusty shop with a single stick (wand! Think wizard!) on a faded purple cushion displayed in the window. Ollivanders, the sign read. Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

A family was already inside.

"Lily! Bless my soul," an older man with graying hair at his temples and a roguish grin exclaimed. Harry found himself inclined to like him. His eyes were a warm brown and laugh lines were etched into his face. "I didn't think you'd grace us with your presence today."

His mother's hand on his shoulder tightened. "I seem to run into quite a few familiar faces today. How are you, Lysander?"

"I'm not dead yet," he cracked a wider grin. "And where are my manners? May I introduce my son Thaddeus who had the misfortune of breaking his wand recently-," the dour looking younger man ducked his head in embarrassment. Strangely, his hair was just like his fathers, greying in places. "And my daughter Alexandria. She was made prefect this year. An honor. An honor." The girl was the exact opposite of her father, light brown hair and dark green eyes and not a shred of emotion on her face. Her robes were outlined in dark blue with a crest he recognized as belonging to Hogwarts.

"A prefect, you say? Congratulations."

The girl tilted her head and the ghost of a smile appeared. "Thank you, Mrs. Potter."

Lily hesitated for a moment. "I would appreciate it if you could find the time to look out for my son Harry here? It's his first year." Harry wanted to protest. He didn't need a baby sitter at school! "I understand it would be harder if he wasn't in your house but—"

"I understand. I'll try my best."

"Ah, Mr. Blackguard. Here for a replacement, are you?" All of them turned towards the new voice. It was an old man, wide pale eyes flickering between each of them. "Lysander. Aspen, 11 ¼ inch, stubborn. Served you well, has it?"

"Indeed it has, good fellow."

"Good, good." The man turned his attention to Lily, a small frown on his features. "Willow, 10 ¼ inch, swishy. Still a good fit?"

"It'll do." The old man seemed to frown harder at that.

"Let's take care of the young Mr. Blackguard, shall we?" He bustled through his store, pulling out thin boxes from shelves as what looked like tape measures attacked the man. "Try this. I have a good feeling about it, 12 ½ inch blackthorn, unicorn hair." The young man pulled it out and with a flick sent a stream of fire erupting from the tip. Ollivander swiped it from him. "Close, close. This one. Ash, 12 ¼ inch, unicorn." This time, a thin dribble of water. "Bravo!"

Before leaving, the elder Blackguard addressed Lily. "If you ever have need of our family library, you need only ask."

Her answering smile was sick. "Your family is very old, I may do just that."

"Old and pure!" Lysander Blackguard chortled. He tipped his hat. "Good day to you. Mr. Potter."

Finding Harry's wand took longer, ending with a few vanished sections of floor, an exploded stack of papers and a scorched wall before finding his match. In the words of Mr. Ollivander: Ebony, 11 ½ inch, dragon heartstring, and 'second best.' According to the old man, whose eyebrows had raised when he caught sight of the small snake on his 'wand arm,' he simply didn't have access to the materials that he suspected would be ideal, but it was the closest fit. Harry couldn't find it in him to be disappointed, as soon as his hand had closed over it, surging warmth flooded through him. Black and white sparks burst from the tip as he smiled.

It was _his._

On their way back to the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron, Harry couldn't contain his curiosity anymore. "What was that about? With the Blackguards, I mean." And everyone else, but the most recent encounter was good enough he supposed.

Lily took a minute to think. "Do you remember the conversation with Narcissa? About researching Dark magic." At his nod, she gave a slight nod down the street behind them. "Dark families tend to have certain…beliefs," she said with some distaste. "I let them think I share those beliefs."

Harry took this in. "So…you're conning them?"

His mother puffed up with indignation. Paused. Deflated. "Yes. Yes I suppose I am." It was apparent that she didn't much care for that idea. "Sometimes, I wonder what I've become. I really do."

He didn't like the sound of that. "You're my mum. And I think you're brilliant!"

She hugged him right there in the middle of the street. Dropped everything and clung to him like he was her lifeline in a sea of people. He could feel a few drops of wetness splash onto his neck. "You've grown so _well_," she cried softly. "Without me."

Harry blinked back a few tears of his own. He wasn't going to cry. "Well, you're here now, aren't you?" He tried to be flippant. It didn't come out that way.

"Just in time to send you off to school for _months—_"

"You're _here," _he stressed. Because that was the important bit. She loved him and she was there.

She stood up, wiping her eyes. Cleared her throat self-consciously as they entered the pub. Several pairs of eyes immediately sought them out, but to Harry's relief, no one approached them. Just a few not-quite-quiet-enough whispers.

"It's the Witch-Who-Lived! Look, over there—"

"I heard she's Dark, making friends with them Death Eater families—"

"I think that's her son. Slytherin for sure—"

"Gryffindor, like his parents, I bet—"

She led him to the fireplace calmly, giving no indication that she heard anything. Taking a pinch of glittery powder from the tin, she held it out to him. "Just take a pinch and throw it in the flames. Yell out 'Potter Cottage' before stepping in. Go first, I'll follow you."

Hesitantly, Harry took a pinch and tossed it in. The flames turned a bright green before his wide eyes. "Potter Cottage?" He stepped in. It was like being on a roller coaster without the feeling of movement. Other fireplaces and glimpses of homes whisked by as he was turned around in circles before inertia suddenly caught up to him. He stumbled out, coughing as ash coated his tongue.

He found a chair and collapsed into it, wheezing. Some magic was great, wicked even. But so far he was _not _impressed with the transportation. He was beginning to second guess his decision to get a broom. He could see himself falling right off it and breaking his neck.

"Ooh, nice dress Harry."

He did a double take. "Thana? What are you doing here?" The fireplace flared as Lily stepped out, shaking her head.

"Should have told you to hold your breath—oh, you decided to come here, I see."

Thana tossed her hair nonchalantly. "My room is already set up, so why not?" Her room? _Her room? _Seeing the dark look on his face, Thana rolled her eyes. "Someone's about to explode with jealousy. Relax, I don't live here." Harry was ashamed to admit that he felt a bit better.

"You could," Lily dusted off her robes. "I'd feel better if you stayed where I could keep an eye on you." She tentatively laid a hand on Thana's dark hair. "Feeling alright?"

"Maybe?"

Lily frowned. "Maybe?"

"I dunno."

Sighing, she turned to Harry. "Let's get you settled in, shall we?"

* * *

That night at Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow Harry dreamed.

There was a shed, burning down. He could feel the heat of the fire on his skin and instinctively knew he was too close. Something was watching him. A ring of trees was blocking him in, shadows in the leaves. A breeze kicked up from somewhere, spurring the flames higher, carrying the sound of a forlorn sigh.

"Hello?"

He could see through the flames a little. There was a wall on the far side that the fire hadn't touched yet, a single window mounted on it proudly. Floating embers drifted past him.

"Is anyone there?"

He looked out to the trees. They were all tall and stately, uniform, but there was something about how the bark formed twisted lines and left dark open holes that bothered him.

"Anyone?" Within one of those holes, an eye opened and began to bleed. Harry backed away and felt the flames lash out at his back. More eyes in each tree shuttered open, red dripping from them. Shadows were slipping from the leaves, pooling in front of the trunks. A poison. The grass withered and died.

_I_

Hands slithered out, grasping, clawing, searching.

_See_

Roots burst from the ground around his legs as he screamed.

_You!_

Harry woke. Just a dream. Just a dream. He sat up, groping blindly for his end table and snagging his glasses. His eyes strained into the darkness. Just a few blocky shadows created by his boxes of things, the vague outline of a chair and his desk. That was his broom in that corner.

Everything was as it should be.

Except…

His hand ran across his sheets. They were damp. Had he been sweating? He got out of bed, grabbing his wand from underneath his pillow. Banged his shin on the edge of something hard. The bathroom floor was wet. An oddly metallic smell tickled his nose. He ran his hands under the tap, splashed his face, wiggled his toes. The mirror was dark.

He went back, wary of sharp edges and hard objects. His mother had shown him a spell, for if he ever needed a midnight snack. How'd it go…

"Lumos."

Blood. Blood was dripping down the walls. It was all over his hands and his face and it was _blood—_

_Something screamed._

His door swung open and his mother came in, a light shining brightly from her wand. Harry realized he was shaking, his throat was hoarse. And his room was spotless.

"Harry? What happened? Are you alright?"

"I—" he looked around wildly. Checked himself. "I don't….I had a nightmare?" But he had been awake. He was _awake _with his glasses on his face, wand in hand and standing in the middle of his room and _where did the blood go?_

Strangely, Lily tensed. She strode into his bathroom and inspected every inch of the mirror. "No cracks," she murmured. The windows went through the same process. "No cracks." Her voice held a note of relief. She looked over him. "You don't have your necklace on."

"I—what?" What an odd thing to mention. "No I—it's in the end table." He was still shaking. "Should I have it on?"

Lily let out an explosive breath. "If it isn't too much trouble. Please."

"I'm sorry." Harry didn't know what exactly he was apologizing for. "Did I wake you?"

"No, Thana's sick. The poor thing is running a fever; she woke me a while ago." She gave him a quick, reassuring hug. "Why don't you get your necklace on and I'll make you some hot chocolate." Her hand brushed his face and over his short hair. "How does that sound, sweetheart?"

"I don't think I'm going back to sleep anytime soon," he muttered. He kept expecting the walls to spontaneously bleed again. As soon as the sickle pendant settled on his chest, he was out the door.

His mum really knew how to make hot chocolate. It wasn't too sweet, chocolaty with a hint of mint and frothy. She made a mug for herself and then sat at the kitchen table across from him. The room was homey, with white walls and dark wood cabinets. "I used to hate chocolate," she told him. "But it's the only thing that gets me back to sleep after a rough night. Do you like it?"

"Mhmm!" He took another long sip. "Does Thana like it too?"

Lily paused. "You know, I don't think I ever made one for her. Let's get her." Harry slid out of his seat, wiggled his toes against the cool tiled floor and was stupidly glad that it was dry. He followed the taller form of his mother through the dark halls, pausing to look out the windows at a clear starry sky. Lily's _Lumos _hung in the air in front of them.

She stopped. "I left it open," she whispered.

Thana's room at the end of the hall had the door closed. A little wooden pictograph of a sickle was swaying slightly, as if the door had moved a few seconds ago and they had just missed it. And underneath, a bit of dark red was leaking through.

Harry found it hard to breathe.

The light extinguished. Lily handed him her wand. "Go back to the kitchen."

"But—"

"Do as I say."

He went.

He sat at the table, mug empty, eyes locked onto the clock hanging over the stove. It had been ten minutes. He hunched over, fighting the powerful urge to run back and _do something. _

He stayed put.

He sung to himself, recited stories he read. Thought up names for his pet snake. It was a tie between Slither and Tooth. Harry recognized that he was not good with names. The clock kept ticking. Hours.

He didn't move.

He had his head in his arms, marching idle fingers across the wood grains. Back and forth. The clock seemed obnoxiously loud and he began to feel a bit tired. Taking everything he had sometimes to keep his eyes op—

He awoke to sunlight, tucked into his bed, necklace glinting around his neck and glasses on his end table. The house was still quiet.

When Lily came in, looking like death barely warmed over, relief was overwhelming. He clung to her, face red and tears in his eyes.

_I thought you were dead, I thought you were gone, I thought you left me, Is Thana alright—_

She rubbed his back and soothed him.

_It's alright, I'm here sweetheart, I'll never leave you, We're fine—_

He let himself calm down even as the cold ball of unease formed in his stomach. They were alive (Thana was sick as a dog, vomiting and barely conscious so he couldn't' say they were _well)_ and they were here and he had been so scared and _what happened?_

This time, she didn't answer.


	4. Train

**_Deathly Hallow_**

_The Tale of Three Brothers was not a legend. It was a warning. No one cheats Death. And luckily for Lily Potter, the promise of the Cloak's return in exchange for her son's life was a fair deal._

* * *

_It always comes down to blood. Mine, James is part of the line and it will never be tricked like that, through me Harry (Petunia? Dudley?), eight is a strong number but strong enough? Once past seven in Montescue book, eight by eight stronger? Conflict between illumination and stability runes, typical fire/water, need an older language. Coptic? Sumerian? Bonding and sacrifice, mutuality. Intent…. - Lily Potter_

* * *

It really had been a passing fancy at one time. Whenever she could feel herself getting upset at her parents' narrow mindedness, feeling rebellious about their insistence about the 'right sort,' watching her little sister retreat into herself, watching her older sister twist, getting ready to just explode all over the room—

She retreated to the library. Pulled out ancient leather bound tomes and carefully unfolded crumbling manuscripts and let her parents make themselves _sick _congratulating each other on how well they raised their daughters. Unaware that if they spontaneously combusted, they wouldn't even be spit on. Narcissa too cold, Bellatrix too cruel, herself too distant. Most of it was about what she expected: obscure Dark Arts, delusions of grandeur, dry accounts of victories and battles with the obligatory obsession over 'blood-traitors.' But there was one small book, yellowed pages and a plain black cover that read like a fairy tale. Penned by a surprisingly humble Orion Nigellus Black who spoke at great length about a Door.

Wondrous, terrible things lurked beyond it. With self-deprecating humour, Orion described the three months he spent temporarily mad for peeking. Writing on the walls in a language no one could read, humming a strange tune, night terrors, and always persistent urge to walk into the sea.

_'Certain were I, that to close mine eyes were to invite disaster. The sea held secrets. Gifts of Life. A siren's call that beckoned in mine sleep. Whispered in mine thoughts. Always whispering. Mine doctor strapped me to bed, fearing I would walk off to shore and drown.'_

He meandered. Later entries talked about his kneazles, his three sons, the birth of his grandson, the garden he never got around to planting, a few chicken scratches in the margins. _'Still calling.'_ He was witty, compassionate and curious. One of the few healthy branches on the rotten Black family tree. The early deaths of two sons marked a change. Splotches of what she thought must have been tears dotted the ink. His handwriting gained sharp edges and harsh strokes. Babbling. Desperate. A single page was blank save for two words: _'I wonder.'_

An odd ten or so pages after were untouched before the writing started up again, as if he had just grabbed the book and flipped to the first blank page he could find. A cipher. _'Fta ghua'a xius ftgfth riu'ss ia…'_

His journal ended. And according to the Black family tapestry, so did his line.

When Albus Dumbledore quietly admitted Lily Potter to the Unrecoverable Magical Ailments ward in St. Mungo's three years after her stunning defeat of the Dark Lord, Andromeda Tonks knew exactly what she was seeing.

* * *

"Yr, Madr and Laukaz. Over, right and under." Cold and clear.

"Kaunaz instead of Laukaz." Warm and firm.

"Absolutely not." A wisp of blonde hair swung loose over the walnut stained table. "Your mental state is fragile enough as it is."

"It's _enlightenment. _And, well, light and it's—"

"And its _dark _magic we're dealing with, is that what you were about to say? Dumbledore must have told you that. Can't have our Gryffindors being suspected of intelligence, can we? There is nothing of any significance in our definition of 'dark.' If there was, we'd have 'light' magic and far too much frolicking in the meadows."

"Patronus." Lily almost allowed herself to feel smug.

"And while you're thinking useless happy thoughts and pleasantries, I'll boil the blood from your veins. Marvelous. I think we both know who wins." The sound of charcoal on paper. "And a witch of your status does not pout, sulk or brood."

There was a snorting sound before a third voice, tired and mellow, interrupted. "Merlin, I remember that lecture. Andromeda! You will hold yourself as appropriate for a Noble and Ancient House! Back straight, feet level, chin up—"

"Hands still, don't run, yes." Narcissa absently brushed a chipped off piece of charcoal off the table. "Mother was thorough if nothing else."

"Thorough," Andromeda Tonks mused. "That's one way of putting it." A small alarm sounded. "Excuse me." The departure wasn't commented on.

"If anyone knows without a doubt I'm muggleborn, it would be you Narcissa. And I'm not convinced on the brooding—"

"Brooding's for _wizards. _Merlin knows they need something to do when one of their little schemes fail."

"And witches don't because…?"

"A good witch wouldn't be caught dead without several contingencies. Brooding is both a waste of time and highly unattractive." Listening to her talk, it was easy to imagine Slytherin not just being the best house for Narcissa, but the _only _house. "For every ten gullible fools there is at least one semi-intelligent thinker. You don't really expect to get by on just hissing at the nearest convenient snake?"

"And not protesting too hard about blood purity." That was hard to do. Sometimes she could hardly believe that once upon a time she thought 'mudblood' was the worst insult conceivable."Naturally."

There was an incredulous pause. "And how many…?"

"Guess."

"Fine. Perhaps one in ten was a bit optimistic." Lily almost laughed, managing to swallow it at the very last moment. Narcissa had a dry wit that came out at the strangest times and almost viciously lashed out at any topic nearby. It really shouldn't have, but it made the older woman just a bit easier to like. Narcissa Malfoy was not nice, nor particularly _good_. She could be petty, cruel and had trouble viewing muggles as anything other than dangerous, brutish _creatures_.

She was also utterly devoted to her family and that was something to respect.

The door opened. "Good news, her fever broke and she's managed to keep everything down."

Lily breathed a small sigh of relief. "Is she awake?"

"Not yet. I'd give it three or four days for the influx to stabilize." With a heavy sigh, the small chair was sat on once more. "Your sleeping habits on a scale of 1 to 10?"

"3." There wasn't much more to say. She distracted herself with Harry, reading his books with him, rearranging his room five times in the past week and supervising play time with his snake, Slither. _'You bite him, I'll crush you. Understand?' _Taking Harry and Dudley to see movies and eat pizza, deflecting questions. For Lily, it seemed like every time she closed her eyes for more than a few seconds, she was at that burning shed, ever drawn in. Life blurred. A flicker of flame off the lights, a few smoldering embers in the walls, the smell of smoke in the air. She fought through it. She wasn't going to spend the last days with her son in St. Mungo's, she just wasn't.

"I'm not surprised," was said lightly. "You're overdue by at least two weeks now."

"I'll go as soon as I see Harry off to Hogwarts, I promise."

"If she starts babbling nonsense and crawling up walls, I'll take her," Narcissa cut in with a tone that clearly said Lily would be stunned, trussed up like a pig at Christmas and unceremoniously floated through the hospital halls. "Ur would be a decent rune as well. Mental health, motherhood—"

"Secondary characteristic of 'termination' isn't promising."

"Oh hush, Dromeda, as I recall _I _was the one with the O in Ancient Runes. Yr negates that, Laugaz is practically necessary—"

"Sowulo only works in odd formations, you need one more."

"H-hold on, five runes carved into my forehead sounds like a bit much, don't you think?"

Andromeda shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Her robes were still crumpled from a late night trying to keep a black haired little girl's fever down and small lines forked from the corner of her soft, brown eyes. "No, they would need to be spread out, two hand spans at least. Seeing as how we have no idea how many soul fragments there are…" she shrugged, running a weary hand through brown curls. "Five is a good amount."

"You are incredibly fortunate Sowulo alone even worked as a container," Narcissa pondered as her eyes flickered up to the lightning bolt shaped scar. "Perfect opposition is…" The blonde witch looked up from her charcoal scribblings for a moment. "Rare," she finished. "Extremely. The Dark Lord must have done something, satisfied some nebulous requirement of old magic he didn't plan on."

Lily tried not to fidget. _The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches… _From the lingering look Narcissa gave her before returning to her rune map, she wasn't entirely successful.

"Ur loses potency in an odd numbering, perhaps if Madr is coupled with Nauthiz…"

The three witches sat in silence, a strange picture. Two Black sisters, blonde and brunette offset by Lily's copper toned hair. Diagrams were plastered all over the walls with three distinct handwriting styles scrawled all over them. Newspaper clippings from the Daily Prophet covering bizarre murders littered the floor and tables along with a few leather bound tomes borrowed from the Black and Malfoy family libraries. The latest news story had yet to be clipped from the rest of the edition.

**MINISTRY FAILURE; SERIAL KILLER ON THE LOOSE?**

BY Rita Skeeter

_Another body has been uncovered in Devon, just south of Abbotsham. Bridget MacCallan, half-blood, was found dead today after disappearing from her home in Welcombe three days ago. As with five other cases, according to Auror Higgs, the body was "weeks old, not days." The current theory is that the killer is using some unknown potion to advance the decay of his victims. Within a few weeks, the bones would already be flakes, making recovery difficult. Who knows how many unfortunates have lost their lives while the Department of Magical Law Enforcement continues to twiddle its thumbs? No suspects, no leads, no arrests! Who will be next? Why aren't we being protected?_

_Continued 3-B_

Someone had circled 'Abbotsham' with dark ink. A small map next to the article had numerous splotches on it, each less than ten map kilometers away from a bright red dot.

Simply marked: Door.

* * *

King's Cross railway terminal in central London was a bustle of activity. People mingled and pulled apart, the remnants of summer's heat flushing cheeks. Suits, trainers, hats, sunglasses, ties, shirts and skirts of every color melded into a shifting rainbow. There were a few businessmen about to make a few trips, a few families about to meet with visiting relatives, a few people in plainclothes standing around with a stick in their hand looking suspicious and a few children with luggage trolleys and…

Owls? There were some double takes. Well, none of their business.

Off to the side, a red haired woman was fussing over her son.

"We're early, so let's make the best of it! Are you sure you have everything? We can always go back if you've left something behind…"

"Yes, mum." Harry looked around, a small bubble of excitement hopping around in his belly. There were so many people! He could already see a few other children with their trunks milling about. A small snowy owl hooted from her cage in agreement. "Mrs. Beak agrees, see?"

His mum wasn't entirely convinced, sneaking a finger through the wire bars of the bird cage to rub Mrs. Beak's head. "You've got all your books and parchment?" Half of his entire luggage was books. "Robes? Quills? Socks? You didn't leave your brush behind, did you?" Harry almost didn't stop nodding in time. "Underpants?"

"Muuuuum, I'm _eleven_ not _two_." He wasn't turning red, he wasn't turning red, oh, bugger. Was it-? Yup. Harry could feel his cheeks burn even as he ducked his head, secretly pleased to be fussed over. These past few weeks had been almost _perfect._

Lily blinked hard. "Right, of course, well!" She straightened, eyes slightly bright. "So when Mrs. Beak gets sent home because you did forget something, I can say 'I told you so.' Because I did, tell you so, that is." Harry quickly flipped through his mental list.

"I _may _have left the Tales of Beedle the Bard behind." He looked up at her hopefully.

Lily smiled, hugging him to her for a moment. "I'll be sure to check. Now, Platform 9 ¾. Ready?"

Harry let his eyes wander. Platform 8 was all the way down there, Platform 9 and 10 were right next to each other. Wait a minute. Harry blinked. Still the same. 8, 9, 10. "I…don't see it." Platform 9 and ¾. Platform 9…._and ¾. _It was a puzzle. He eyed the brick wall in between. His mother nudged him a little, whispering.

"Watch." A lanky teen carrying his own luggage and an owl cage was walking briskly towards the brick wall separating Platform 9 and 10. Harry watched, half-convinced he was going to painfully collide – because he was reading this book and didn't seem to be paying _any_ attention—

The brick swallowed him up, trolley and all.

Harry could feel his eyes get big. "Blimey…"

His mum giggled. "I remember when I first saw someone walk through the barrier. My first year, my mum actually cried out in surprise and Petunia—" She stopped. "Go on, Harry." Her voice softened. "Give it a go."

He took a deep breath and began to walk. Mrs. Beak hooted curiously from her spot as the pace picked up and Harry tried not to _think. _But there were people everywhere, looking down at him with a question in their eyes and he tried not to imagine that their eyes would follow him and muggles would see him disappear into a solid wall and then he'd be in trouble for exposing magic—

_Stop thinking!_

He ran at the wall. And fell through into something amazing.

A brilliant red steam engine puffed proudly, golden stenciled lettering marking its side. Dozens of cars stretched out and faintly around a corner, the air sparkled with laughter and well wishes. Children of all ages were joking with friends, hugging their parents and trying out spells, sparks shooting from their wands. A little to the side a slightly pudgy boy was searching his pockets and a pair of identical red heads with mischievous grins dashed into the train. Harry grinned widely. It was really happening; he was going to school to learn _magic._ Owls hooted, cats meowed and the train let out a puff of smoke that curled into a circle.

His mum came up behind him, humming a familiar tune that he couldn't quite place.

"Wonderful, isn't it?"

"It's really happening!" She grinned down at him, running a soft hand across his shoulders. "This is great!"

"Write me as soon as you can," she told him firmly. "I want to know everything about your first day. What friends you've made, what House you're in, how you like your professors…"

"Everything. Got it." She hugged him then, a tight desperate hug and for a moment he began to fear that she wouldn't be able to let him go. She eventually did, wiping at her eyes and fiddling with his robes.

"Merlin," she whispered. "Three months."

Harry felt a hot lump settle at the base of his throat. There was a blank, almost desolate look on her face, like she wouldn't know what to do with herself once he boarded. His previous excitement was cooling as it just started to sink in that he was leaving. He wasn't going to see her until Christmas. That was _ages._ "Are you going to be ok?"

She looked up sharply. Nodded. "Yes, don't worry about me, sweetheart." She sighed. "I just want you to have at least this one year where magic is wonderful and exciting and solves more problems than it causes." Well that sounded ominous. Harry gave the train a sideways look. A finger tapped him on the nose. "I don't want to hear about any detentions for you, understood."

"Yes, mum."

Her green eyes looked over him, trying to spot at least one thing out of place and give her an excuse to keep him there just a little bit longer. She didn't find anything. "Good bye, sweetheart. I love you."

Harry smiled and ignored the stubborn prickling in his eyes. He wasn't going to cry. "I love you too."

"Go on," she shooed him off. "Go on."

He went.

He found an empty compartment somewhere in the middle. He opened the door with slightly shaking hands and just stared. A window at the far side, a couple of seats, an overhang for a few bags and space underneath for trunks. It was if stepping onto the train hadn't been enough. He could see himself now, sitting there and looking out of the window as the train pulled out the station and _away._ He slunk in hesitantly. Mrs. Beak hooted as he hoisted her cage up.

"Well, just you and me for now, huh?" He fished around in his trunk for a few owl treats. "What do you think, girl? We going to be ok?" The owl hooted decisively as she took a treat from his fingers. He smiled, feeling a bit better. "Right, what was I thinking? Of course we are." The small bird had shown up, pecking at his window midday with a few missing feathers and hooting triumphantly two days after their trip to Diagon Alley. He could still remember his mother's bemused comment:

_Well. She found you._

And the owl had never let him forget it. The bird's unwavering confidence reminded him of Thana at odd times when his friend was so very sure that she was fine and would always be fine—_You act like you've never been sick before. This happens, get over it_. He tried to puff himself up with some of that confidence and sat by the window. He was a wizard after all, going to the best magic school around.

Minutes later the door opened to admit a fox faced boy who gave him a calculating look. "My name is Theodore Nott. Who are you?"

Some of Harry's new found confidence poofed away. "I'm Harry." He cleared his throat. "Harry Potter. Nice to meet—"

"Potter?" Theodore cut in sharply. He had narrow eyes that took in his robes, trunk and owl in a single pass. "Relation to Lily Potter?"

"She's my mum," Harry offered and watched the boy nod tersely.

"I apologize for my poor manners, Potter. May I sit with you?" Harry nodded after a moment, not entirely sure what to think of the other boy. First he interrupts when someone else was talking, and then apologizes for his manners and wants to sit with him? For a long minute, perhaps two, the boys stared at each other. The sudden homesickness was almost violent. What he wouldn't _give _to have either Thana or Dudley – or even better, both – on the train with him!

"Do you know what House you're going to be in?" Harry ventured. Start with something easy, right?

Theo snorted. "Slytherin, of course." His dark eyes glittered. "That's where you're headed to, aren't you?"

"Ravenclaw, I think." Harry relaxed a little. "They've got a House library and everything." His mum seemed to be particularly jealous about that feature. The word 'unfair' came up more than once.

Theo gave him an odd look and Harry almost cringed. _He _probably didn't have this all explained several weeks ago and probably knew all about it. He waited for it, the exasperation and the 'I _know_' but it didn't come. "Ah, book person are you?" He looked down at his own trunk. "I've certainly got books. Book _shaped _things anyway, couldn't tell you what's in them." He said cheerfully. "For all I know, they're blank."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You didn't read any of it? At all?"

"Nope!" He looked smug as if it was a great achievement. "I intend to do the bare minimum, you see."

The mind boggled. It was _school._ "But…why?"

"All I need to do is pass my OWLS," the boy laid out his master plan. "Then I inherit a lot of money and property and do whatever I want with the rest of my life."

Harry blinked. His mouth gaped open and closed before finally spitting out the truth. "You're _weird." _And then his brain caught up. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean—"

Theo was laughing. "That honesty! You know what, Potter? You're all right. For a Claw, you know. House pride and all that." He held out a hand. "Theodore Agracius Nott of House Nott," and then a little somberly. "My Da's in Azkaban, wrong side of the war and all."

"Oh, um," Harry took his hand. "Harry James Potter…of House Potter?" He got an approving nod. "My mum is the Witch-Who-Lived and _you're _not in Azkaban, so you're fine." He paused. "You know, for a snake."

Theo's grin was wide. "You play chess?" The train let out a piercing whistle and with a soft tug, began to move.

Harry almost nodded. "Actually…" he cut Theo a sly look. "How about a game of cards? Exploding Snap?" Nott was not stupid, immediately looking a little wary at the predatory look Harry had on his face.

"Erm, how about a few games of each?"

"You're on."

The door opened and a platinum blond boy stuck his head in. "Do any of you know…" He trailed off, staring intently at Harry. "You're Potter."

This was new. "Can I help you?" The boy's eyes flickered back and forth between them before ducking into the compartment. He nodded to Theo who gave him a small nod back. He sat on the seat caddy corner from Harry, staring at him intently. "Er, hello?"

"Your mum got my dad off for being a Death Eater," he said bluntly. "For _books."_ He was looking at Harry like he personally had something to do with it. "_Why?"_

"I—I'm not quite sure what—"

"They were on opposite sides! I'm pretty sure my dad tried to _kill _your mum more than once!" He was waving his arms around expressively. "Who _does_ that? Books." He glared. _"Books."_ Harry and Theo shared a look. It was very apparent that this had been bothering the strange boy for a very long time. "He's on trial and she says that he seemed _reluctant_ or that she couldn't _remember_ what curses he used and everyone listens to the Witch-Who-Lived and…**_BOOKS_**."

"Who are you anyway?" Was the first thing that came to Harry's mind. The boy stopped looking at him like he had killed his pet (or gotten his dad out of prison, shouldn't he be happy about that?) and more hesitantly confused.

"How could you not know who I am?"

"Well I don't—"

"Draco Malfoy!"

"Oh." Harry remembered that name. The woman from the Alley came around the house a few times, even if he never understood why. Half the time he couldn't say she and his mother were even _friendly_. "You're mum's blonde too, right? Kind of tall?"

Draco nodded, looking relieved. "So you do know something!"

"I really don't," Harry apologized. Was it his imagination or did Draco's hair just frizzle slightly? "I didn't even know mum helped someone get off." Harry assumed it must have been for a good reason.

"Books." Draco reminded him almost angrily. "For_ books_."

Oh, that's right. Harry perked up slightly. "Is this a bad time to mention that I'm pulling for Ravenclaw?" The look Draco gave him could have seared flesh off bone if he were just a few years older. "Exploding Snap?"

He left.

Theo wheezed, slumping against the window. "I—Is this a bad time t—to mention…Ravenclaw…ha!" He straightened, giving Harry a loose approximation of Draco's scowl. "_Books."_

"It's a legitimate bribe!" That set him off again as Harry grinned. "Alright, alright." He dug into his trunk, pulling out the silver and obsidian chess set Thana had given him. He brushed his hands over it, wondering how she was doing. Was she any better? Sleeping? He could easily imagine her being bored out of her mind actually, with his mum ushering her back to bed every time she caught her escaping.

"That's a gorgeous set." Theo eyed it enviously. "Your mum give it to you?"

"A friend, actually," he bragged a little. "For my birthday this year. She always gives the best presents."

Theo picked up the silver knight piece, a chimera. "What year is she in?"

"Oh, she's not in Hogwarts yet, next year." The fox faced boy looked up in surprise.

"And you get gifts like _this _already_?_" He began gathering up the rest of the silver pieces. "Lucky. What's she going to get you in fifth year, a house?"

"Three stories, near the beach," Harry said with fake seriousness. He was gently shoved.

"Prat." Once all the pieces were in places, the board glowed with faint silver light and the pieces came to life, roaring, stretching out their tentacles, wings, claws and heads. Harry's eyes widened. It had never done THAT before. He shot a quick look at Theo, who seemed to have been expecting it. "Ok, pawn! Listen up! I want you on B-2 to move to…"

During the second game where Harry was desperately trying to stay out of checkmate by building a box around his King, the door to the compartment opened. The slightly pudgy boy Harry could vaguely remember from the Platform peeked in.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said softly. "But have any of you seen my toad? He's been getting away from me all day."

"Nope," Theo said shortly, glaring at the board. "Just lose, Potter."

"Sorry," he told both of them. The boy looked so crestfallen that Harry flicked his Behemoth over and stood up. "Here, have you asked any of the older students to help? They probably know all sorts of spells for finding him."

"You mean a prefect?" The boy looked thoughtful. "They looked awfully busy, I don't know…"

"I know one." Kind of. "Just show me where the compartment is."

Theo stood up as well. "I'll come too. You might want to put your board away so it doesn't get nicked." That done, all three tromped out into the corridor. "Theodore Nott, by the way."

The boy looked a bit hesitant. "Neville Longbottom."

"Oh," for a second, Theo looked gob smacked. "Your dad…"

"I'm sorry," Neville said miserably. "It's…It's his job and—"

"That's alright!" Theo said it a little too quickly. He cleared his throat self-consciously. "I won't hold it against you if you don't hold my dad against _me_. Good?"

Harry looked between the two of them anxiously. "Everything ok?" Neville nodded, smiling shyly. "Alright, I'm Harry Potter." He peered at Neville closely. "Your dad didn't put any of _my _relatives in prison, did he?"

For a moment, the mousy boy looked ready to panic. "No! I don't think so—no! I—" he saw the teasing grin on Harry's face and pouted. "Oh, ha, ha."

Harry shrugged. "I thought it was funny…"

They passed many compartments on the way to the front of the train, some of them almost full to bursting. Harry spotted Draco, sitting with older students and not looking happy about it and bustled past before the blond boy saw him. They came across what must have been Neville's compartment as one of the girls inside waved at him as they walked past. After a minor argument in front of the Prefect's carriage, Harry was elected to be the door knocker.

Three quick raps. He waited a few seconds and then turned around. "Guess that's a no! Let's head back…"

Behind him the door opened. "Yes…oh. Firsties." An unpleasant looking teen with a nose that looked like it had been broken several times and a green and silver tie sneered down at them. "What do you lot want?"

Harry was shoved forward by hands he swore were Neville's. "I'm Harry Potter and we're looking for Alexandria Blackguard."

The older boy's slate grey eyes looked him over. "Fine. Alex!" he called back into the carriage. "You know Potter?" Harry couldn't hear the answer, but the boy snorted in response. "Figures." He glared at them. "Don't go anywhere."

Harry crossed his arms, irritated. Like they would leave after all that?

Alex appeared in the doorway, her hair done up in a loose bun that had her wand run through it. She looked just like he remembered save the green and silver tie, very serious and calm. Her voice was slightly warmer. "Mr. Potter. How may I help you?"

Harry took great pleasure in pulling Neville out from behind him. "My…My toad has gone missing. Trevor. Can you help me find him?"

With a slight tug, she pulled her wand free from her hair, letting the brown waves fall wherever they felt like. She pointed it down the hall over their heads. _"Accio _Trevor." A little brown amphibian soon came speeding down the corridor, croaking in distress. "Here you are."

Neville's cheeks pinked as she handed him the weakly struggling toad. "Thank you."

Her lips might have quirked into a smile but when Harry blinked, her face was stoic. "You're very welcome. Was there anything else?" All three boys were thanking her for her time and being 'wicked cool' with her spell when the lights flickered. Alex looked up as they dimmed and then flared again. "That's…very odd."

They died.

_"Lumos."_ A small ball of light appeared at the end of Harry's wand and a second later, Alex's sparked into being silently. A third from inside the carriage shone brilliantly.

"The bloody hell is going on? Alex?" A few shouts rang out from the compartments. The boy extinguished his light with a quick _'Nox'_ and then tapped his throat. _"Sonorous. _**Everyone stay in your compartments. We'll get this sorted out. **_Quietus._"

Harry stared hard at the wall, almost daring it to start leaking. Another bauble of light was moving towards them, illuminating a pompous looking boy with flaming red hair. "If the twins did this, I will string them up, I swear, they've gone too far this time-!"

A weak looking ball of yellow light lit on the end of Theo's wand. "I didn't think the train could be sabotaged."

The Slytherin prefect glared around, as if he could scare the lights into turning back on. "It can't."

"It shouldn't," Alex corrected absently, brushing past the boys. "Weasley," she addressed the red head cooly. "Where's Flinton and Clearwater?"

"Ah, Penelope? Helping some Second Years in the back, I believe." He blinked owlishly in the poor lighting. "I haven't seen Flinton since the meeting. Renshaw?"

"Murley went to the bathroom," Renshaw grunted. "The other prefects are at Hogsmede. Haven't seen Flinton either. One question." A thick arm was pointed at the three boys nearby. "Firsties. What about 'em?"

Alex glanced at Harry. "They stay in the Prefect carriage."

"But—"

"Potter is under my protection," she murmured in a low tone that sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "They stay in the carriage."

Renshaw scowled at them. Harry scowled back. "Don't touch my things." And he was off, bullying past them down the hall. After a moment of indecision, Weasley followed. They made an odd pair, Weasley's lanky form contrasting sharply with the more heavier set Renshaw. Weasley prattled on, nervous.

"I bet it was Fred and George, I just know it, you know. I bet they think this hilarious…."

"Shut up Weasley."

"I'm just saying! A deluminator perhaps, although where they got their hands on one of those is beyond me-"

"Shut up Weasley."

Alex sighed before gently pushing Neville into the carriage and then Theo after him. "A Nott and a Longbottom." This time, Harry could say for sure that she smiled a little. "Interesting. We'll get this sorted out soon enough."

Harry crept into the carriage, looking around the best he could using his wand light. Theo was already sprawled on a plush seat while Neville looked around nervously. "Don't touch his things…how do we know what's his?"

"Well, I imagine whatever we get cuffed for was his," came Theo's unhelpful advice. Neville frowned at him.

Harry plunked himself down by the window. "I don't think Alex is going to let him hit anyone."

"You're the one under protection," Neville pointed out. "I don't think that extends to the rest of us…"

"It got all three of us in the Prefect space, didn't it?"

"I suppose—what was that?" A loud thumping sound came from the roof of the train. "Is someone up there?" All three of them looked up. "I don't—there it was again! Who would be on top of a train?"

"Some idiot." Theo shook his head. "House points are in trouble…" Harry silently agreed with him. Stomping around on the top of a moving train in the dark sounded like one of Thana's crazy ideas which was all the reason he needed to know that it was a _bad one. _A strange feeling suddenly skittered up Harry's spine as another thud sounded out, a lot closer.

"Hey, what's that?"

Harry followed Neville's finger down. His necklace was glowing from underneath his robes and he knew that taking it out would probably blind him. Another uneasy feeling made him wiggle his toes inside his trainers. He was restless all of the sudden, a burgeoning need to move. "It's just my—" Another thud. A large crack snapped through the window.

_Run._

He needed to get out. They needed to get out. _Now._

Harry leapt to his feet. "_Out! Out! Get out!"_

Neville bolted like a frightened rabbit, Harry right behind him. Theo was slower.

"What's wrong with-"

There was no time for this. _No time. _Harry pointed his wand behind him, pooling all his anxiety and desperation into it because if this failed Theo was going to _die and oh god please—_

"_ACCIO THEO!_" The boy rocketed into them, sending Harry crashing painfully into the far wall just _something _punched into the prefect carriage. An appendage, the little light played off a rippling surface looking like it was made completely out of water. A slow pulse moved from bottom to top, disappearing beyond the room of the carriage as if swallowing. The bottom of the limb detached and swung up towards him.

It was a mouth. A bottomless pit of black and red and endless circular rows of jagged teeth. His necklace sparked, burning through his robe until the hallway flooded with a painful brilliance. Harry's eyes watered as he tried to keep them open, blinking slowly. The teeth gyrated as the limb pulsed from top down. With a wet tearing sound, it regurgitated a large green eye, its teeth having sliced bloody slivers into it, hanging strips of watery flesh flapping. It spat it on the ground. A tough cord attached to the back dripped from the mouth.

The eye focused on him.

_Hello, Harry Potter _ The waves of a thousand seas crashed against beaches of razor fossils and Harry could feel every single one of them. _I know you_

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, sliding pain traced his bones. "I'm sorry!"

_Death is yours _and Harry suddenly, horribly knows that he's heard that phrase before and it's brought him _this _and it's _marked_ him and every instinct _screams—_

_MOVE_

His necklace flares and the mouth glances off something in midair. Harry sneaks a look down and can barely make out Neville curled up in a ball and Theo is half on top of him whimpering and he _can't move _and looks up—

Teeth. An endless throat coated with gibbets of meat and blood pressing against a barrier, spreading, looking for a weakness. Harry already knows, he can _see _it, he won't go down whole but he'll go down _alive _and he curses that _bloody tree_ with every word he knew. It covers them completely, the wall behind them disintegrating as the mouth comes into contact with it. All around are teeth. For a bloody moment, he's so sure it will just continue into the floor and just swallow them all—

It pulls back. Harry can tell its thinking.

_I will remember you_

The light from his necklace collapses.

He can't see.

* * *

Alexandria Blackguard looked around slowly, taking in the crowd of students that littered the streets of Hogsmede with imperfect sight, little starbursts still popping up at random intervals. She studiously ignored the migraine pounding away at her left temple, pointing a few Slytherin second years towards the rest of their House and kept a careful eye on where Pomfrey was inspecting the blank eyes of Harry Potter.

She spotted her Head of House stalking towards her, robes billowing and scowling harder than she had ever seen him.

"Blackguard." Her acknowledging nod is barely adequate. He doesn't notice. "Explain."

"The lights went out." Her voice is trembling slightly. "Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom and Theodore Nott were outside the Prefect carriage as they recently requested my assistance in retrieving Longbottom's familiar." Severus Snape nods sharply. "I told them to wait inside the carriage so they weren't trying to find their way back to their compartment in the dark." She doesn't make any note of the favor Lily Potter asked of her. He would get _erratic_. He really didn't need to know and Alex _was _Slytherin. "Ivan Renshaw, Percy Weasley and I went in search of Jacob Flinton and Alice Murley."

"I assume that is when the light appeared," Severus Snape stated flatly, his black eyes sweeping over the train. She knew what he could see; the Prefect carriage was half as tall as it used to be, crumpled from some incredible force smashing inwards. She knew what he couldn't see: a large hole in the side of the train on the other side, the edges smooth as if sanded.

"Yes, sir. Several minutes later. It was bearable, if obnoxious, but then it grew brighter. And—" Alex hesitated, not entirely sure she hadn't dreamed it. "There was _singing."_

He looked at her sharply. "Describe it."

Alex bit her lip at the almost impossible request. "It wasn't a voice, exactly. More like a feeling. Of being in a cave beneath the ocean where the notes bounce endlessly between stone and water." The cave walls were of clear, resonating crystal and something _moved _in the water. If she closed her eyes and tried to remember that sound, she felt as if she could almost transport herself there. "Beautiful."

"And terrible at the same time," he finished, skin sallow and yellowing with something like fear.

She looked up at him in surprise. "You've heard it before, sir?"

"Just once," he admitted slowly. "With luck, I will never hear it again." He surreptitiously looked over to where Harry Potter was downing a potion and then immediately tried to pretend he wasn't concerned. "I must inform the Headmaster, I trust all will remain in order Blackguard?"

She glanced at him out the corner of her eye, not bothering to dignify that with a response.

Tradition was tossed aside for that year. It didn't matter how many years First Years took the small boats across the lake, half of them couldn't bloody _see _and Pomfrey put her foot down so hard she almost cracked it. They were hustled into carriages along with the older students, some of them being plopped onto the laps of sixth and seventh years as their Heads of House quieted complaints with the promise of house points. Most of them were able to ditch their smaller charges once inside the castle but a few older brothers and sisters clung to their siblings in the Main Hall.

A low hum on concerned questions drifted around Alex as Harry leaned into her, bandages wrapped across his eyes, glasses in hand. She ran an absent hand through his short hair. "Still want to be Ravenclaw?"

It wasn't the most comforting of questions but Harry didn't seem like he needed comfort so much as a distraction. "Slytherin wouldn't be bad," he allowed, small fingers probing at his semi-see through bandages. "Theo wants that House."

"I imagine a Nott is expected for that House. He may even want it as well."

Harry frowned. "Does that happen often? Does everyone go into the House their parents were in? Am I going to be Gryffindor?"

"It happens." She shifted from one foot to the other. "But not all ways. Blackguards are traditionally Ravenclaws. I'm Slytherin. Potters, Longbottoms and Weasleys are usually Gryffindors."

"But not always?"

"Correct."

"I like books," Harry said sleepily. He slumped and then jolted upright. "I'm awake," he murmured apologetically.

"It's been a long day." She felt him nod and let her lips quirk. "No harm done."

The door opened and the Gryffindor Head of House looked over the bedraggled group from behind large horned glasses, lips pursed and a lock of black hair in the process of escaping from her tight bun. "It's time."

Some of the luckier First Years gasped as they took in the charmed ceiling twinkling with a few early rising stars and wispy clouds and the floating candles. The House banners hung proudly over each section of long tables and at the Head table the Headmaster looked over them with an uncharacteristically solemn expression. The Sorting Hat sat on its customary stool, looking as ragged as it ever did. Its seam split and began to sing like it did every year. She tuned it out.

Harry gasped. "Who's singing?"

For a moment, something in Alex's chest twinged. Her charge was missing this entirely. "A hat is."

What she could see of his face was highly skeptical. "A…hat…"

"Correct. It sorts you."

"A hat."

She caught herself smiling as the song finished and several students politely applauded. McGonagall began to call out instructions and then names. The appropriate First Year made their way to the front, sometimes added by a Prefect. She volunteered to take Crabbe, Goyle and Longbottom when their names came up – two Slytherins and a Gryffindor.

"Potter, Harry!" She led him up and he sat on the stool. The hat fell on his head.

"Ravenclaw!"

He grinned wide, barely remembering to wait for her so she could lead him to the Blue and Bronze table without him running straight into it. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she whispered into his ear as his new Housemates applauded. "Potter."

* * *

_Potter_

Lily woke suddenly.

The sun was half into the horizon, a few cloud bellies were highlighted in orange red tones and for a minute, she couldn't remember where she was. The wind blew. Solid white drapes caught it, floating up as she looked around at similarly colored walls and bed sheets. She sat up slowly. Her mind felt fuzzy. Empty. Memories filtered in slowly, trickles of feelings and pictures.

St. Mungos. Desperation. Confusion. Happiness – _Harry, my little boy—_Anxiety. Anger. Trapped.

She sat there for two and a half hours before reaching over and tapping the small, charmed bauble by her bed. A tall, brown haired woman answered, checking her watch. "Lily."

"Andromeda." She nodded slowly. "How long?"

"A bit over a day. Harry was Sorted yesterday." The woman smiled, raising her wand transcribing the usual diagnostics onto a scroll of parchment. "I'll leave it for when you can read the letter." Because Lily wouldn't be able to read so soon after waking. The letters would rearrange themselves, forming strange words in a haunting language she could almost remember. "Everything seems to be in order, you know the drill. A dose before bed for three days and if you feel up to it, you have two visitors."

"I…" she nodded. The first was slightly surprising. She left out a faint 'oof' as Thana catapulted onto the bed and hugged her tightly. Lily buried fingers in her thick hair. "It's nice to see you up and about, sweetheart."

The girl squeezed. "It's gone."

The second visitor she didn't expect at all.

Severus Snape billowed into the room, spots of pale color on his cheeks and his eyebrows drawn so tightly they almost merged into one. Thana flinched as he conjured a crude chair for himself and leaned forward, eyes fixated on the little girl she held. His eyes moved back and forth between them a few times, and then he leaned back in that way he always did when he felt like he was on the verge of solving a brutal puzzle.

"What have you done?"

Lily leaned back into the pillows, absently running her fingers through a few tangles in Thana's hair as she watched the last ray of sunlight vanish beneath the horizon. "Yes," she murmured softly. "That's the question, isn't it?"

* * *

_So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother. Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to give the departed Life._


	5. Severus

**_Deathly Hallowed_**

_The Tale of Three Brothers was not a legend. It was a warning. No one cheats Death. And luckily for Lily Potter, the promise of the Cloak's return in exchange for her son's life was a fair deal._

A/N: This chapter took longer than I wanted it to. I got caught up trying to make sure Snape was adequately Snapey, and the whole scene got away from me. Apologies. Quite a few answers in this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

_51.0173, -4.2512 Order safehouse. Willingness to be used, why didn't I see it? Albus has the Cloak but it should still work, bound. Conduit, summon? A window or door to come through, twilight or 8? Note: get a watch with a timer. A few Dreamless Sleep, I can't eat, I can't sleep. I feel like I'm wasting time. I have to do this, I __**must**_… - Lily Potter

* * *

There is something about Anna Marie McKinnon that isn't quite right.

Born to the late Edward and Marlene McKinnon exactly three months to the day after the birth of Harry Potter, she seems to be just another unfortunate orphan of the First Wizarding War. The Dark Mark hovered over too many broken and burning homes, remnants, it is easy, preferable even, to believe that this family hasn't been wiped out entirely. Not like so many others. Another line lives, in blood if not in name. You are one of those hopefuls, with your own personal reasons for your belief.

The oddities were ignored. At times, her shadow moved independently. Trick of the light. Lily was extraordinarily protective. Not of the girl, never her. Of others. You don't think to question why the woman's first instinct when faced with a little girl's volatile emotions is to put her wand away. To move so that she stands in between the girl and everyone else, speaking slowly and softly, palms up.

_Focus on me, sweetheart. You know me._ _Not them, forget them. I'm right here. Look at me._

Lingering trauma from witnessing her parents' murder. You accept that explanation.

She sings to herself, like sometimes little girls do. Your sensitive ears can hear the other voice singing with her.

Hope is a strange, little phenomenon, isn't it?

Ignorance is bliss.

Everything is fine.

She has some of her mother in her, they say. And she does. The shape of her chin, ears. Those are Marlene's. Edward's father had black hair and she promises to have inherited some of his height. They don't say anything about her eyes, a vivid color not found in anyone's family tree. Or how her odd half smile is more reminiscent of the late James Potter and makes your chest ache in familiarity. The cheekbones are aristocratic. The McKinnons have always had robust features, rugged, not handsome. Pretty, not beautiful. Anna Marie is a doll, delicate. All soft angles and charm. Something niggles in some dusty corner of your mind.

Sometimes she looks kind of like…

A blink later and something in her face has changed. Or maybe not. She looks like her parents, the best of their features.

Everything is fine.

There are some questions, always questions. An orphaned pureblood child, who wouldn't ask? Lily is constantly on guard with her answers. The girl doesn't seem to mind the curiosity, smiles and giggles at the right places. For a four year old, she's very aware and even tempered.

Just don't cast spells around her.

Lily intercepts your offending wand almost violently. The girl has gone tense, staring. The smile has died. You make your apologies and pull back with clammy palms and cold feet. Something primal in you shifts uneasily. The goose has stepped on your grave and you don't know why.

Ignorance really is bliss.

Everything is fine.

Who are to be her guardians? The Macmillans have offered, respectable family, as did the Selwyns but you don't think much of them. What about the Longbottoms? Oh, you? Godmother? The girl could hardly do better than the Witch-Who-Lived, could she? Hogwarts, eh? Good, good. A credit to her house, whatever it may be. Lily jokes about having to housetrain her first. At least you think it was a joke.

Never the right questions.

There is something about Anna Marie McKinnon that isn't quite right.

Fraying threads of a friendship. You're stuck in the middle. Blackguard. Malfoy. Yaxley. Lysander spoils the girl rotten, brooms and texts, sugar quills every month that Lily has to confiscate before they are all eaten. Narcissa is coolly tolerant, Draco comes first. Cadmus is indulgent on occasion, approving even as he makes his disdain of Lily Potter's 'muddied' blood clear. Names Sirius Black wants nothing to do with but knowledge Lily Potter doesn't quite know how to explain she _needs._

Or why she needs it.

_Where's Harry, Lily? Did you just forget all about him? Too busy making new friends?_

_Not now, Sirius. Not now._

_We'll bloody well do it now! Where's my godson? _

_Does it matter if he's safe?_

_Oh, so he's 'safe' dumped who knows where, while you spend all your time on McKinnon, it's almost like James' son wasn't 'pure' enough for you—_

_How dare you—_

_Sirius! Leave. And don't come back until you can talk to her without picking a fight. __Now__, Padfoot._

You worry about Harry too, but you have more trust. After what happened with Macnair, you can't find it in you to blame her for anything.

Lily always seems stressed, to put it lightly, like she has been trying to cram too many activities into a day and still has somewhere else she has to be. At first, you're concerned. Small talk gets more and more awkward as time wears on. She trips over words, bites and snaps them out as if the sounds were threatening to get away from her. She gets distracted. Her goddaughter seems to notice, a small hand curling into her robes and worried eyes meet yours. You stare.

The girl's eyes are so very _blue. _It pulls you in—

_Or xaftftugh, ghhuta ghiaaa' ruftgt allaa' su huga_

Fingers in your mind, poking your eyes from behind, skittering in your blood and you can _see _them pushing outwards under the skin, they are rummaging, poking, prodding. Your heart stops. Starts again. Vague feeling of apology, it didn't mean to do that. The tendrils dive into another part of your brain. You jerk, spasm and your life flashes before your eyes.

Yuor toghuhts sabmcrle, sacettr, relfcet, carsh—

You blink. Lily is wondering if you are alright, her speech is smooth and controlled. Natural. For some reason, this confuses you. You beg your leave, stuttering, complaining of a slight headache. Your legs are weak as you stand. You look down. The girl's shadow coils. You look back up in alarm, at her borrowed smile and blue eyes and you open your mouth to scream—

You are walking out of the Leaky Cauldron, having satisfied your curiosity. Lily could do with some more sleep but she has always been stubborn and her goddaughter was adorable. You're sure she and Harry can easily become the best of friends. You wish Edward and Marlene had lived through the war to raise their little girl, you really do. A real shame, she has the best features from both of them. Still something seems, perhaps, a little off.

There is something about Anna Marie McKinnon that isn't quite right.

But you no longer remember exactly what. You shrug the thought away and resolve to get something for your headache and prepare for the next full moon.

Lily Potter disappears from the magical world all together after Frank Longbottom receives a letter written in complete gibberish. Subsequent owls you send return undelivered. The girl visits Diagon Alley clinging to Narcissa Malfoy, or walking just behind Cadmus Yaxley. She flinches ever so slightly at the sight of a wand. You want to protest. The McKinnons were an upstanding Light family, these undesirables shared the same social circle as the criminals that took away that poor girl's parents. Look at how quiet and reserved she is! No four-year-old should be like that. You share Sirius' concern and have every intention of setting the record straight—

She sees you.

Smiles.

Her eyes are blue.

And everything is fine.

* * *

Potter Cottage is empty.

She sways a little, her stomach unsure if it wanted to sick up or cramp into a small ball of lead, and she doesn't have the energy to move. She doesn't want to move. She doesn't want to see the rest of the house, she doesn't want to walk through its rooms and see the little tells. 'Harry was here.' She doesn't want to see the Snitch cookie cutters on the counter. She doesn't want to see the pictures they took on the walls. Three months. She feels as if she just made the biggest mistake of her life.

_Three months, what had she been thinking?_

The fire flares green just within the farthest reaches of her eyesight. Severus steps out quickly with what could probably pass for nervousness and concern on his face. He brushes off the ash and soot. She still can't find it within her to move. "Lily?"

"I'm fine," she lies. Her knees buckle and before she can even think of stopping her fall, he catches her.

"You are most certainly not fine!" He snaps and seats her cautiously. "Do you need to go back? Does anything hurt? Are you confused? Lily!" He tries to look her in the eye and is caught completely flatfooted as she starts bawling in his arms.

_"He's gone!"_

Comforting crying women isn't in a potion master's repertoire so he just stands there, hunched over awkwardly and does a terrible job keeping the tears at bay. But she doesn't push him away, and for a moment Severus Snape is hopelessly, stupidly, grateful for it. It's a horrid feeling. She's sobbing as if her very reason for living had left and here he is, wishing she takes a bit longer than strictly necessary to get over it.

Severus is used to treasonous thoughts. So he doesn't move.

* * *

"What do you know about that night, Severus?"

His tea is has a full bodied aroma and is slightly bitter to taste, just the way he likes it. If he had to guess what was in Lily's mug, he would guess it would be some sweet berry abomination trying to pass itself off as tea that he never saw the appeal of. He scowls behind his tea cup, taking another sniff. Well, hello there, Calming Draught.

"Is this necessary?" He accuses, jabbing a finger at the cup.

She is unrepentant. "You can always not drink it," she says drily. "But it will help."

He can already tell this conversation is going to go splendidly. He takes a reluctant, bitter sip. The kitchen is in a mild state of disarray, a few porcelain plates still out on the counter, a tray with a few crumbs, a few colorful mugs. And that in and of itself strikes him as very odd. He can't even imagine a spoiled prince like Potter cleaning up after himself, where are the house elves?

'Away' is all she says and he buckles in with another sip. "I know what can pass for common knowledge. The Dark Lord came to kill you." Because of his stupidity. "And that the Killing Curse is no match for an obscure branch of runic barriers." He raises his eyebrows slightly. "Runes?" Runes had caught her interest in third year, he remembered, much like _everything _had but charms had always come first.

Lily smiled slightly, picking up a quill from the table and scribbling on a napkin. What she wrote made no sense. There was what looked like a simplistic version of a bird, a scythe, squiggly lines, a stupid looking bovine…He picked the napkin up, squinting. "What _is _this?"

"Hieroglyphics." She murmured a word then and the symbols shimmered with pale yellow light. She took the paper from him and laid it flat in between them. She pointed her wand at him, and in spite of himself he tensed. "Stupefy." Red light splattered in midair and the napkin crumbled into ash.

He looked at it, feeling his eyebrows rising higher still. "I imagine something capable of repelling the Dark Lord and the Killing Curse would take a bit of set up."

She didn't answer the implied question, leaning forward onto her elbows and the famous lock of white hair drew his eye. "The Headmaster doesn't believe the Dark Lord is dead, does he?"

He nonchalantly took a calming sip, reflexively blocking off his mind. "What makes you say that?"

Lily's lips curled into a sneer he was mildly alarmed to see, his grip on the cup tightening slightly as she sniffed condescendingly, an echo of the looks he had been surrounded with in his school years. _Half blood._ "The words he uses, of course. Always 'defeated' or 'gone' but never dead, never killed." She took a small pull of her own mug, and he resisted the urge to take a peek at what was inside it. "He could have done a better job of pretending otherwise."

His own voice was carefully mild. "Subtlety and cunning aren't typical Gryffindor traits."

"So everyone keeps reminding me." She doesn't even miss a beat, stirring her drink slowly. "As for the Killing Curse…" She looks up at him through her eyelashes. "You could say I made a friend." She nods towards his cup as she stands. "Finish that."

He's sure his eyebrows have disappeared right off his forehead into his hair. "So common knowledge is not the truth." He barely avoids snorting. "Surprise."

Her grin is toothy and her answer is positively Slytherin. "Useful, isn't it?"

He spends the time alone trying to convince himself that no, he really doesn't need to know exactly what it was she was drinking. And of course, she left her mug behind on the table in front of him turning what should have been an open/shut case into a brutal uphill battle. It's not so much the mysterious liquid, well it is, but more that he wants just the simple hint that he still knows her. That the war, time, the adoration of the public as the Witch-Who-Lived, her questionable acquaintances, hadn't twisted her away from the bright muggleborn witch he knew.

Twisted? He's not being fair, he knows he's not. What is he going to do? Command her to stop changing? He lost every tenuous right he had to demand anything of her that day he let his anger get the best of his tongue. It just—

He glares at the mug sitting innocently in front of him. Perhaps just a little peek…

When Lily comes back into the kitchen carrying a finely crafted Pensieve, he's scowling thunderously. _Chocolate. _She hated chocolate, or at least, she disliked it enough to pester the DADA professor about whether or not other sweets were effective against Dementor exposure, and didn't let up about it for at least a month.

And one couldn't forget about James Potter and his idiotic insistence on 'anonymously' gifting her with chocolate and his confusion when she pelted him in the face with them. Every so often, he would forget, and the humor revisited.

So _why chocolate?_ He contemplates the wisdom of just asking. Might as well. In for the pence... "I thought you hated chocolate?"

"Hmm?" She places several vials of silvery memories on the table next to the Pensieve, and glances at her mug. "Ah. It's an acquired taste." She pauses over the mug. "It was necessary for a while." Chocolate is most well known as an antidote for the chilling, cold effect of Dementors and—he frowns—other forms of Dark magic. She can see the look on his face and smiles sadly. "Unpleasant dreams."

She takes his cup and a bolt of unease streaks down his spine. What kind of memories needed a full dose of Calming Draught beforehand?

"Which memories?"

"Hallow—een." Her breath hitches as she empties a vial. The memory swirls in the bin and a slight, thin strand of corrupted grey swirls with it. "A few things later. I will be viewing this one with you. Just in case."

Severus suspects that had it not been for the Calming Draught, he would have bailed. "Very well. Let's get this over with."

She catches his hand, just as his head dips towards the basin. "No matter what happens, it cannot hurt you."

He has time enough to think _What! _Before he falls into Lily Potter's memories of that fateful night, October 31st, 1981.

* * *

Potter Cottage looked nothing like it currently does: a quaint two story house with beige walls and cherry wood decorations. A flickering image of a burning shed superimposed all around them, even in the memory he could almost feel the heat wafting off the flames. The past Lily is walking through the hallway almost leisurely, as if she couldn't hear the crashing sounds of battle from downstairs, humming. Present Lily sticks close to him as he follows.

"I wasn't entirely sure how it would look, in a memory, I mean." She took a deep breath. "Well, never mind."

The nursery room is strangely normal, no fire. Severus looked around the boy's room and noticed a distinct lack of runes or anything that spoke of any defenses at all. In fact…why is the window broken? He puzzles over the anomaly.

_'I'm here, Harry.' _Her voice is lilting musically. _'Mummy is here. And I'm so sorry…'_

The door slams open and even when expecting it Severus is completely caught off guard by the Dark Lord in the doorway.

_'Lily Potter.' _He winces, fully aware that the only reason why the man is here, personally, is because of him and knowing what he's going to say next. _I'm giving you one chance to stand aside, girl.'_

Past Lily is unconcerned. Her eyes flick to the broken window, and then back, a twisted little smile blossoming. _'No spells.'_

_'Stand aside!'_

Present Lily gives a small strangled gasp as her memory-self obeys. The Dark Lord raises his wand at the exposed toddler, triumph lighting his eyes with a cruel fire. _'Avada Kedavra!'_

And that's when everything went to hell in a hand basket.

Solid shadows exploded from the window beside him like a vengeful spirit of wrath, wrapping itself around the spell with a scream that knifed through his head with a thousand rasping voices—

**_ENEMY_**

It formed a humanoid, cloaked figure, the acid green light of the spell shining through cracks spidering across its surface. Parts of it bulged, other parts twisted, before it lashed out with dark tendrils burying into the Dark Lord's body, thick moving welts forming under the skin as it burrowed, pulling itself closer. Noise. A cacophony of a toddler's wailing, Lily's frantic apologies, the Dark Lord bellowing in pain and over top of it all the sound of a mass grave of torture victims, bones rattling against each other and wretched, sweet _agony—_

**_ENEMY_**

It was feeding itself into the body it had taken a hold of, little by little as blood was forced out through the pores and tear ducts. Snape couldn't tear his eyes away. An eyeball was forced out the socket in a shower of red, replaced by dense shadows, a chunk of skull burst outwards. He was vaguely aware of Past Lily snatching Harry and curling up in a corner of the room.

The realization of what was about to happen was sharp.

Severus turned just in time to watch a bloody starburst form on the wall as a piece of flesh bounced off it, and the plinking sound of what must have been teeth. A finger whizzed through his head. The walls sprouted spines of black shards. The silence rang like a bell. Calming Draught. Necessary. He didn't turn around.

_'It's over sweetheart,' _her voice was tired. She coughed wetly. _'I love you so much, Harry…'_

The memory went dark.

He reluctantly turned his head and caught sight of Lily, pale and shivering. "What—" he took a moment to gather what few trains of thought that weren't gibbering with hysteria. "What was _that_?"

Lily carefully did not look at him. "I had named it Thana."

_"That's not a pet!"_ It was most certainly not something you name casually, like some kind of yapping ankle biter instead of the eldritch abomination it was, _and why wasn't the memory over?_ He wanted out. As if responding to his thoughts, the darkness lifted and Severus found himself standing in a large ring of trees, with a shed grimly burning in front of him.

"Oh," Lily breathed. "I was afraid this would happen."

Just one dose of Calming Draught was not _nearly _enough, he noted. The air was heavy with water and the little hairs on his arms and the back of his neck were rising from the crackling potential of lightning. He could—he took a deep breath—yes, it was as if he was actually there, the faint smell of pine and wet grass, smoke and ash. Dark clouds boiled overhead, the small eye of the storm positioned right over the shed.

Lily sat on the ground, making him look at her in surprise. "Shouldn't we…?" He gestured towards the shed. Something was telling him that he needed to see what was inside. There was a thread of cold purpose hooked in his navel, attempting to reel him in.

She shook her head. "You want to see what's in there," she guessed, picking a few blades of grass. "Trust me, it's not for you." The ground shuddered, bucked, rumbled. The shed's roof collapsed in as Severus recoiled. "Thought so."

The memory shifted.

A short period of darkness before he was looking at the inside of a hospital room with a very pale Past Lily blinking her eyes languidly and a concerned Albus Dumbledore seated beside her bed. A great many bandages created a distinctive lump underneath the hospital gown, and the lock of white hair the whole country 'knew' to be evidence of extraordinary spell casting in her face.

_'I must ask, how did you manage to defeat him?'_

Lily's eyes were completely blank. It didn't seem like she even heard the question. _'Harry? Is my son alright?'_

_'He's safe.'_

_'Safe…' _she repeated. _'Safe.' _Her eyes swung wildly, almost hopefully to the window and the Headmaster's confused gaze followed her. _'Safe?'_ Whatever answer she'd been seeking in the clear glass, she found it, sinking back into her pillows. Dumbledore stood with a twinkle conspicuously absent in his eyes.

_'The healers have assured me that you will make a full recovery, even if they aren't sure how or why.' _The old man smiled sadly as Lily began to sing under her breath, still staring at the window as if it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. _'It is a mystery, isn't it? Perhaps it is for the better. The truth, as they say, is a wondrous, terrible thing and must always be wielded with caution.'_

The Pensieve ejected them.

* * *

Wordlessly, Lily took his cup and began to refill it, stopping only to top off her own mug with hot chocolate. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Severus finished his tea two more times until his hands stopped shaking. "Witch-Who-Lived?"

"It was a rather nasty cursed wound," she replied shortly. "The Darkest magic they've ever seen. Naturally, it must have been from the Killing Curse."

"Dumbledore wasn't convinced," he mused and he wondered if the man had done anything but sit on his suspicions, whatever they may have been. His mind wanders to another Pensieve, sitting in the Headmaster's office where he had first heard a vast song that haunted his dreams for countless nights afterwards.

_There are things far beyond us, Severus. I imagine Voldemort wishes to believe there is only power, as if that were all the wealth in the world, and he will never be satisfied. He will reach. Too far. I often wonder, what will become of him when he stares into that abyss and it looks back? You are a bright, young man with a future ahead of you, Severus Snape, much like he was at one time. Do not squander it._

"I imagine not," Lily was saying, her face tight with some emotion. "You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get an oath out of that man."

Snape chokes. "What, what did you need an oath for?"

"He has a Potter family heirloom. It _belongs _to Harry and—it belongs to Harry." She shakes her head. "Are you up for another? It's nothing like the other one," she reassures him hastily. "It's just…my ward." And then adds rather hesitantly. "You'll be teaching her next year, so you should know."

"The McKinnon girl." He's heard stories about that one. A troublesome Gryffindor no doubt that he was not looking forward to having in his classroom. He was certain that any child Cadmus Yaxley spoke positively of was an unholy terror. Also not likely to be a complete idiot and in some ways, that made it even worse. "What about her?"

Lily packs up the memory and spills another into the shallow basin. "Take a look."

He doesn't want to. He _really _doesn't. He falls into the memory.

The first thing that he notices is the sound of someone hacking off a limb. At least that's the connection his mind made at the wet tearing which is not promising. A small child's whimpering only strengthens his misgivings.

_'I'm sorry, so sorry, I know it hurts,' _Lily's voice is babbling. _'I know it hurts, this isn't a very good body, I'm sorry, I'll do better.'_

He's staring at her back. And when she shifts, discarding a thin, spindly arm, he realizes his mind was one hundred percent correct.

He throws himself out.

Lily is frowning at him from across the table, halfway through another mug of chocolate. "That was quick. What did you get to?"

He gives her a sharp, disbelieving look. "You _chopping off an arm!_"

She has the decency to cringe, at least. "I can say that I wasn't in the best frame of mind then."

"What frame of mind was it?" he asks sarcastically, barely keeping his voice level. "Perhaps you felt like mimicking Jack the Ripper? Or was an axe murderer more your style? _What in all that is holy were you thinking?"_

Lily looks at him blankly before getting up and walking out. There is the sound of a door opening, and footsteps going down a flight of stairs. His gut clenches. That memory took place in this house. She comes back and plops an old book on the table in front of him.

The book is bound in leather of some sort and has an eye in the front. A real human eye. Time shriveled it into a deflated, papery sack of tissue with a bleached iris. Severus used to be a Death Eater. He had a passion for the Dark Arts in school, he still does. However, there is Dark of the legally questionable and there is **_Dark_**. Magic no one with any sense even alludes to in polite company. Soul splitting, Inferi, blood magic.

He pokes the book with his cup.

"The works of Gerard Brabant, contemporary of Nicholas Malfoy, 1302," she tells him, as if they were in the Hogwarts library and she was telling him of a new book she spotted in the Restricted section that she wants to read. "Alchemist."

He pokes the book again, eying it suspiciously. "Where did you get this?"

"There is a reason why I mentioned Malfoy," she sighs exasperated.

"They just gave you this book?" He's certain this is a Class 1 artifact with a fifteen year stint in Azkaban attached to it and in spite of the rumors and odd trial, he can't imagine Lucius Malfoy being willing to loan this out to the Witch-Who-Lived.

He can't imagine _anyone _being so bloody insane as to admit they even have something like this.

She pushes the Pensieve closer to him, making it clear that she's not letting him off the hook. He scowls darkly.

* * *

The memory is just as horrible the second time around. He grits his teeth through it and when Past Lily dashes upstairs when a bell rings, he hangs around for a few seconds. He isn't entirely sure why, but he creeps closer to her…"project."

It's a mass of flesh dripping with blood and pus, no legs but three arms. A stump where the fourth limb was. Something on its side pulses with a heartbeat and various other half-formed organs dot the body. It has a vague face, one side is dominated by a bulbous blue eye while the other is elongated upwards, a beady red eye with a black iris staring right at him. Tuffs of black and red hair top what could generously be called a head.

It isn't until it moves its arms in his direction does he realize it can_ see him._

He dashes up the stairs and finds Lily in a small side bathroom, scrubbing her hands raw. Embers burn in the walls. That lock of white hair is there, as is a clean lightning bolt shaped cut scabbing over on her forehead. She towels her hands and reaches out for the mirror.

_'Will you show this time?' _

Nothing happens. The relief nearly knocks him to the floor.

She walks through him and he follows as she opens the front door and is just as surprised as he is to see Narcissa Malfoy on the other side. Flames spark in the door frame.

_'What do you want?'_

The blonde woman is stiff and is clearly making the effort to be civil. _'I would like to speak to you about the trials. One trial in particular.'_

_'Your husband has plenty of rope to hang himself with,' _Lily says with uncharacteristic harshness. _'Good day, Malfoy.'_

_'Wait!' _The woman cries. _'Please, my son needs his father. I can't lose him, not so soon.' _She isn't quite begging. This is a proud woman of a noble lineage but it is very clear that if she thought for a second it would get her what she wanted, she _would _beg. _ 'Please. Is there truly nothing you would consider?'_

Perhaps it is the allusion to another boy that lost his father too soon, or the naked desperation on her face, but Lily pauses. With a hiss she grabs Narcissa's forearm, almost ripping the sleeve. The skin is bare. Fire flares in the cottage walls and a strain of some melody tickles his ears. A face forms in the wood grain. Lily lurches slightly, shaking her head. She turns her body, and Severus is in the perfect position to see her cast a furtive, tortured glance towards the cellar. _'Books. Whatever I want from the Malfoy and Black libraries.' _She says finally.

_'I—what?' _Narcissa's face is a picture of suspicious surprise. _'Books? That's…that's it? I mean, I could certainly—that is…' _She straightens and wipes her face clean. _'I can promise a few from the Black library however; I am not sure what Lucius would be willing to part with…'_

_'If he wishes to stay out of prison, part with them he will.'_

Narcissa's shoulders slump slightly as she reclaims her arm gingerly. _'I…yes, of course he will. Thank you.'_

_'I'll need an oath from both of you.'_

_'That is acceptable.'_

Lily nods shortly, says her goodbyes almost too quickly to be polite and slams the door closed. She barely makes it to the toilet before she's emptying her stomach into it, sobbing. The house burns.

The memory ends.

* * *

Severus takes his time. It was a candid picture and he feels some of his admiration for her break away and crumble painfully. It's been a part of him for so long. What frame of mind_, indeed_. "What is in that book?"

"How to make a homunculus."

"That isn't the only book you have now, is it?" Her sad smile is enough of an answer. "I assume this is where you demand a vow of secrecy from me."

"I'm sorry, Severus," she says softly. "But I can't—they can't _know_. She's just a girl."

"There is absolutely no earthly way _that,_" he jabs his finger at the pensieve. "Can be just _anything_." Lily's jaw has a stubborn set that is very familiar, a flare of anger in her green eyes he's seen before.

_'Slipped out? It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends…'_

He shakes the memory away. "Oh, don't give me that look. Do you honestly expect me to believe that little horror is a bundle of innocence?" A horrid thought occurs to him as he recalls black hair on the thing, and shadowy tendrils underneath skin. _Where did the body first come from?_ "That's the remains of the Dark Lord." He flattens all of the panic out of his voice.

"…No." It's clear from her face that she didn't expect him to buy it.

"What else still exists? His magic? His soul?" Her eyes flicker at the last word and he surges to his feet, wand in hand. He isn't sure what he's going to do with it but the fire of adrenaline is chasing away a phantom chill. "_His soul_," he hisses.

She holds up her hands in a universal gesture for 'peace.' "Put the wand down, Severus." Her eyes glance to the window in the kitchen meaningfully.

He looks. The window has misted over darkly. He freezes, watching. A crack snaps through the glass and he wavers. He's suddenly aware that this is what happened to Macnair, just like this with his wand raised high and was _torn apart like so much scraps of meat_ - A second snap and he slams his wand onto the table, setting off a shower of green sparks, and steps back from it.

It lingers for a few seconds and then dissipates. He doesn't quite manage to quell the sigh of relief.

"I extracted the soul fragment." She rounds the table, her eyes still fixated on the window. "I still need that vow."

A chime rings through the house. A few seconds later he can hear a couple of voices, one he tentatively pegs as belonging to Narcissa Malfoy, coming towards them. Soon the woman herself appears, stopping in the doorway. He stares in horror at the girl at her side. Both pairs of blue eyes had immediately went to the cracked window with synchronization that sends a chill down his back.

"Ah," Narcissa speaks first. "I take it this is a bad time?"

"I was just leaving," he says, feeling Lily's eyes bore into him. "The Headmaster sent me to inquire about some things." He gives them all a flat stare, feeling like he had just walked into a conspiracy. "He seems to believe that there is some insight here. The Hogwarts Express was attacked by something."

He takes a grim pleasure in how pale Lily gets.

"Are all the students alright? Draco…?" McKinnon is staring at him, head cocked to the side in an avian gesture.

"They are all fine. Mild case of blindness in most of them. It should clear up in a few days." He snags his wand, quickly putting it away before anyone, or any_thing_, gets any ideas. The three look at each other, communicating silently somehow, he's sure of it. He doesn't want to see what kind of scheme they come up with. "If you'll excuse me?"

Thankfully, they make room for him to pass but he remains tense all the way to the floo, expecting a memory charm to the back or something just as inhibiting. He takes a pinch of floo power. "The Leaky Cauldron!"

He wastes no time in ordering an entire bottle of firewhiskey and takes even less time drinking all of it.

He's out, intact. A little _too _easy.

Shadows playfully follow him back to Hogwarts.

* * *

Harry rubbed his eyes, yawning as he wandered into the Great Hall that morning. He must have spent hours in bed last night in that annoying state of 'too tired to sleep' with a dash of 'did that shadow just move!' flooding him with adrenaline every so often. He counted himself lucky that he managed to get any sleep at all.

Not that his housemates _helped._

"Terry," Anthony Goldstein is saying at the table, looking irritated. "You bloody snore."

"I do not!"

"You do," Harry volunteers. He slips into his seat and stifles another yawn. "You really do." The boy turns to their fourth roommate, Michael Corner but before he can ask, he gets a solemn nod. Outnumbered, Terry just looks mutinous as food starts appearing on the plates and trays. Harry began to scoop some eggs onto his plate, feeling slightly guilty for leaving Kevin Entwhistle still asleep in his bunk.

In his defense, on top of Terry's snoring, Kevin had the tendency to kick the wall in his sleep, the random thuds from the top bed setting off flashbacks of the train. Harry hadn't been feeling very charitable.

"Good morning, boys!" A male voice with a distinctive squeak to it calls out cheerily. Harry turns his head and can't help but smile at his diminutive Head of House. "I hope you all had a good night's sleep?" They gave him vaguely affirmative answers and he chuckles. "Ah, don't worry about that for now. Classes have been canceled for today, we still have a few recovering students. Oh! Speaking of class…" He starts handing out timetables printed onto cards. "These go into effect tomorrow morning so you have no excuse being late!" He leans toward the boys, stage whispering. "If I were you lads, I'd make myself familiar with the location of your classrooms today, hmm?"

Harry took his schedule, nodding to himself. That actually seemed like a really good idea. He could already tell the castle was bloody _huge._ The core classes were 'Charms,' 'Herbology' and 'Transfiguration.' There were also a smattering of other classes such as 'Potions' and one section of 'Astronomy' at the end of the week. Harry resolved to re-read at the very least, the first two chapters of each textbook today.

Neatly folding the card, he took a quick look around the Great Hall trying to spot either Neville or Theodore. Instead he was able to see quite a few children still had bandages around their eyes, or were rubbing them and felt a sharp pang of guilt. It wasn't like he was _sorry _for staying uneaten, specifically, but…it _was _his necklace.

And he was pretty sure the entire reason that thing was even there was because of him.

He finished his breakfast quickly and decided to approach the Slytherin table. Within a few feet of it, the unfriendly stares from the older students were already getting to him.

He shrunk into himself, spotting Draco Malfoy's gimlet stare and hurrying along. "Theo?"

Theo did a double take when he saw him, shoveling a few mouthfuls of eggs into his mouth before standing. "Potter." Harry hid the cutting disappointment as best he could. Back to last names, were they? "I need to talk to you about something." He jerked his head back towards the large double doors near his table. "Privately." He paused before adding a sincere "Please."

"I guess that would be fine," he hiccupped. Theo's smile was weak. As they passed her, Alex reached out and casually snagged the sleeve of Theo's robe. He bent over, listening to whatever it was she was whispering to him. And then he nodded so fast, Harry feared he'd bob his head right off.

"Mr. Potter." She greeted him coolly.

He glanced between her and an extremely pale Theodore Nott, entirely unsure of what to say. Did she just threaten him? How do you react to that? Thanks, but don't do it again? "Good morning?"

She nodded solemnly. "I hope your eyes are not giving you any trouble?"

"Uh, no." He winced, feeling that guilty feeling well up again. "How are yours? Everything ok?"

"Thank you for your concern." Her lips quirked. "I believe you were about to speak to Nott?"

"But—" Harry started as Theo started to pull him out of the Hall. "You didn't answer my question?" She turned back to her timetable as he got further away. "Why didn't she answer my question?"

Nott snorted. "Blackguards." He stated as if that explained everything. "She didn't want to answer, so she didn't. They've always been a bit odd, all those Ravenclaws, you know. All those books driving them around the bend."

"Hey!"

The smile Theo gave him was stronger, more genuine. "Just calling it like it is, mate." And then quieter, to himself. "Bloody terrifying though."

The affirmation that Theo considered them friends made Harry smile widely. The only friends he had had been his cousin Dudley, who being his cousin didn't _really _count, and Thana. And he didn't so much become friends with her as she had decided that they _would _be friends, and that was that. Not that he was complaining.

"Alright, look Po—Harry. I asked the Blackguard when she learned that summoning charm." At Harry's blank look of incomprehension, he pointed a finger. "Accio?"

"Oh, what about it?"

"Aside from how you knew the carriage was going to get caved in?" The boy said drily and Harry flushed uncertainly. "Thanks for saving my life anyway." Theo's face flipped through a wide range of emotions at this that Harry couldn't quite identify.

"You're welcome?"

For a moment he looked like he was going to say something more on that topic, but moved on. "It's taught in fourth year. Fourth year. You are a First Year." Harry wasn't quite getting it. "That doesn't happen!" He burst out. "First years don't cast a complex charm on the first try!"

"Well, I'm a First Year and I did," Harry pointed out reasonably. "So obviously, that's not true. Maybe it just wasn't that hard."

Theo's mouth opened then closed. He tried again and still nothing came out. Third time was the charm. "It's obvious that this is completely lost on you so never mind. Just—" He looked at Harry a bit helplessly. "If you don't end up a powerful wizard, I'm going to be really disappointed in you." He leaned forward, as if to impress upon Harry the weight of his expectations. "Really disappointed. Get it?"

Harry nodded quickly.

"Right." He tapped his foot in what was probably a nervous tick. "That light came from you, didn't it?"

After a long moment of hesitation, Harry dug into his shirt to pull out the necklace. "From this actually." Theo's eyes widened on seeing it.

"Are—are those diamonds?" He looked up at him. "Is it some kind of family heirloom?"

Harry frowned. He hadn't even considered that actually, he just always had it and assumed his mother had given it to him. She certainly wasn't at all surprised to see it, not like the way he had caught Aunt Petunia looking at, all pinched in the face and lips thinly drawn lines.

"I've just always had it." He fiddled with the sickle pendant. "But it glows sometimes. On the train was the brightest I've ever seen it."

Theo pointed. "What happened to that one?"

"Huh?" Harry took the necklace off, ignoring the slight chill of unease that drifted through him and inspected it. "What are you talking about?"

"That one."

The necklace was a masterful piece of craftsmanship. Now that he was looking at it up close, _really _looking at it, he could faintly see small symbols etched into the chain around the gemstones. Twenty stones in all on top of the silver sickle pendant and there at the top where it would have been resting on his left collar bone, one brilliant gem had turned black.

One down.

Nineteen left.

He shivered, putting the necklace back on and stuffing it into his shirt. "I…don't know. It wasn't like that before—" He bit his lip. "Maybe it just happens?"

"I guess," Theo gave it a quizzical look but shrugged it off. "I thought we should explore the castle a bit today, what do you think?"

Harry perked up. "That's right. We can see where all the classrooms are!"

"Yes, classrooms." Theo wasn't enthused. He glared at the blue and bronze tie Harry had on, as if it was responsible. "I was thinking more secret passages, there's bound to be tons in a castle like this. Or the abandoned wings! We'll have to check in a prefect at times, of course, just so they know we haven't gotten lost."

Starting to get caught up in the idea, Harry grinned. "Blackguard?" The grin widened at Theo's exaggerated shiver. "Well, come on! We can ask Neville if he'd join us, it'll be great!" Both boys started to walk back towards the Great Hall, expanding their plans to include the grounds aside and the lake with Harry interjecting bits of information from Hogwarts: A History at random intervals. Right before the door, Theo jerked to a sudden halt, staring at the floor.

"What's wrong?" Harry followed his gaze down to their shadows.

"I—" Theo shook his head. "Nothing." He slapped a hand over his face. "I really didn't get a lot of sleep last night, seeing weird things. This morning the bloody mirror was all...strange. I could have sworn it was cracked."

Harry nodded in sympathy. "Me either. Terry Boot _snores._" He looked over slyly. "I'm not quite to the point of hallucinating though. Sure it isn't an existing condition?"

He was gently shoved. "Prat."

Harry giggled, stumbling away from the light push.

His shadow didn't.


	6. Hogwarts

**_Deathly Hallowed_**

_The Tale of Three Brothers was not a legend. It was a warning. No one cheats Death. Luckily for Lily Potter, the promise of the Cloak's return in exchange for her son's life was a fair deal._

* * *

_I did it. Harry is safe. Nothing will touch him. Death won't allow it. – Lily Potter_

* * *

It started suddenly, a burning pain in her chest that pulsed outwards as if someone had dropped a lit match into her heart and set her blood aflame. Moments later, a stinging cold blew right through her. She stumbled against the wall. Her shadow was darkening, staining the wall with black ink. She shook, fingers and toes numb, lips turning blue. _Ride it out._ Deep breaths as she slid down the wall. _Ride it out, Dromeda!_

The feeling began to draw inwards, lightening. Her blood simmered, skittish. She could almost feel it moving through her. Feeling crept back tingling. Absently, she rubbed at the star burst shaped scar right over her heart. It was cool to the touch. Noise. Someone was talking?

"-Tonks! Are you alright?"

She blinked languidly. Heart. Pain in her heart. The scar. This was important. Heart. Something about her heart. And the scar. Whose heart? The scar was hers, the heart wasn't? _Why was she thinking in circles?_

There was an offended squawk and the next thing she knew, a woman with mostly red hair was in front of her grabbing onto her wrist and there was a crowd of people she was certain hadn't been there a few minutes ago. "Do you know me?"

Andromeda stared. Something vague and unformed tickled her tongue. "Allie?"

The woman stared back. Her face scrunched up. "Close enough. Do you know Thana?" That name sparked.

Her head cleared reluctantly, trains of thought straightening out and uncrossing. A phantom ache was still thumping in her chest. "Something came through."

Lily's face lit up with relief and then seemed to change her mind about it, adopting a neutral expression that couldn't quite conceal the worried draw to her brow. "Sympathy pains. Thana's going through worse but she wanted to make sure you two were alright."

"Narcissa?"

Lily helped her to her feet, smiling weakly. "Always asking after someone else. She has your heart, doesn't she? Let's find out."

* * *

_You wouldn't believe this place, Dud! It's a bleeding castle! We rode here by train and there was an attack of some sort, don't worry, I'm fine but classes were cancelled for a day. The grounds are huge! There is a lake with a giant squid and a tree that moves, a Quidditch pitch (that's the sport on broomsticks, brooms!) and a forest we're not allowed to go into. I know if Thana were here, she'd drag me into it. I've got to follow all the rules this year, so when she gets here, I can blame all the rule breaking on her. Think I can get away with it?_

_I made some friends, Theodore Nott and Neville Longbottom (yeah, I know). Theo is really lazy, I bet I'll have to nag him about homework. Neville is kind of shy, but don't get him mad, then he gets scary. Theo nicked his marble and Neville gave him this wicked look, he gave it back quick smart. This place has moving staircases and walls that pretend to be doors and real ghosts! I haven't seen any yet, but some of the older students told me each House has their own ghost. Theo's House Slytherin has the Bloody Baron, Neville is in Gryffindor with Nearly Headless Nick, Hufflepuff has the Fat Friar and we've got the Grey Lady._

_ Ravenclaw House is really neat. Has its own library and everything, just like mum said. Books! Don't be surprised. My Head of House is a small bloke, coming from me should tell you how small! Professor Flitwick and he teaches Charms. Theo said he's a half-breed, whatever that means, Neville said it didn't really matter. They do that, argue sometimes about weird things. Kind of like you and Thana now that I think about it. I don't know who's who yet, I'll have to listen to them argue more. I'm sending you a packet of sugar quills. Thana says they're brill and won't get away from you like a chocolate frog will. I ate some frogs but not the quills yet (don't tell mum!) so you'll have to trust her. Or trust me not to poison you. Whichever is easier._

_Writing again soon,_

_Harry_

Michael Corner banged on the dorm door loudly. "Come on, Potter!"

Harry quickly scanned over his letter, cringing slightly at the amount of ink blots and uneven letters and quietly resolved to practice writing with quills more before grabbing his books. "Coming, just give me a bit." He folded his letter carefully; just enough to protect the contents from casual glances but not tight enough to bleed the ink. "Alright, to Charms!"

He pointed forward with his wand valiantly and after a second, Michael copied him. "To class!"

They grinned at each other before shouting, "Ravenclaw, onwards!"

A few older students that morning were treated to a rather loud display of House pride from their first year boys, who marched out of the tower wands held aloft and shouting at the top of their lungs "Ravenclaw, onwards!" like faux-Gryffindors.

Jacob Flinton, Head Boy, didn't have the heart to tell them to pipe down, instead raising his own wand in salute as they passed through the door. "Onwards, Ravenclaws," he intoned with a smile. "Do your House proud, eh?" Several of the older students laughed, holding their wands high.

The children marched on, heads held a little higher, Harry Potter leading the way, grinning.

The Charms classroom was a large, colorfully decorated room with half circle rows of desk facing an orator's desk, shelves of books lining the back wall. Streamers of brightly colored papers hung from the ceiling as did a few odd pillows but the most distinctive feature were the buzzing winged keys flying overhead.

Harry stopped dead on seeing them, green eyes going round. "Wicked!" He knew what he wanted to learn this year. That. Definitely that. Someone nudged him. "Sorry." He picked a desk at the front of the class and was soon joined by a boy with a yellow and black tie.

"Ernie Macmillan," he introduced himself, holding out a hand. "As far as I'm concerned, my name is Ernie. You are?"

"Harry Potter." Ernie froze mid handshake, staring at their joined hands. Harry let go quickly. "Sorry."

"No, I just…" he licked his lips nervously. "I heard the Potters have kind of…" his voice dropped to a whisper. "You're not Dark, are you?"

"…Er?" Harry said eloquently. The introductory chapter of his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook waxed poetic about the Dark Arts, but this was the first time he'd heard it applied to a person. "I don't think so?"

Ernie stared at him. "You don't think?"

"I don't use Dark magic, if that's what you mean." Technically, the only magic he did use was two spells: _Lumos _and _Accio_ but Harry was working with limited information. No one needed to know about the technicality.

"Oh." The other boy blinked. "That's good then."

"Right."

"Right." They gave each other considering looks.

"Oh! Here it is." Professor Flitwick bustled into the room carrying a stack of books. "If I ask whose idea it was to change around the classrooms, the correct answer is: Not Professor Flitwick." He placed his pile of books behind the desk and hopped up onto to them, allowing him to grin at the room from his new height. "Now, whose idea was it to change classrooms?"

The entire room told him "not Professor Flitwick" and with a flourish, he produced a roll of parchment. "Marvelous! You're all listening, two points for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff! Now let's see if you are all here…Abbot, Hannah?"

He ran through the list in short order and Harry tried his best to fit names to faces. He tried to latch onto distinctive characteristics, like Susan Bones' red hair or Justin Finch-Fletchley's large ears but at the end of roll call his head was spinning.

"Now, if I'm not mistaken, Harry Potter?"

Harry jerked a bit, wondering if he had missed something while he had been looking around the room. "Sir?"

Flitwick peered at him intently from behind his glasses, his moustache twitching. "You're not in trouble, don't worry! I've been told that you can cast a summoning charm?"

Harry felt his heart sink. "I don't suppose it was a first year Slytherin, who told you, sir?" So he hadn't actually said it was a secret, but it would be nice not to be scrutinized in his first class.

Flitwick blinked. "First Year…? Oh no, my boy, several of my older students heard you on the train."

Harry could feel his ears turn red. He should have expected that, wasn't like he shouted at the top of his lungs after all. Figures. "Oh. Well, yes, sir."

"I don't suppose you would mind demonstrating?" With a flick of his wand, one of the pillows hanging from the ceiling gently fell to the floor as he waved Harry up, truly seeming interested. "Normally, this charm is taught in Fourth Year," several students began to whisper, "but it isn't complex, necessarily…"

That didn't seem to matter. Ernie was staring at him as Harry dragged his feet to the front of the class room. "The pillow?" Flitwick nodded several times excitedly and Harry sighed. For a long moment, he looked at the pillow and contemplated failing. Not that it would be hard. The pillow was not a new friend trapped in a carriage with something out to kill it, who was to say that it wasn't simply desperation?

But it would mean failing in front of _everyone. _And if there was anything Harry hated, it was having an audience when he made a mistake.

Harry gritted his teeth, pointed his wand at the pillow and called up everything he felt on that train, so certain and completely sure that if the spell fizzled someone was going to _die—_

The room changed slightly. Like it shifted, just a few degrees, to the right.

_"Accio _pillow!" A second later cloth and down feathers smacked him in the face. "Pfftah!"

"Dear me!" Flitwick hurried forward as Harry spat small feathers out of his mouth, almost wishing that the spell failed instead. "I can't say I've seen anything like that before. Why, look at this." He held up what used to be the cloth cover of the pillow, shredded. It looked like someone had attached a cat to it, and then pulled on its tail, dragging its claws through the material. "Perhaps a matter of force?" He looked up, as if suddenly realizing that he was still in the middle of a class. "Well done, Mr. Potter. Well done indeed. Five points for Ravenclaw."

Harry nodded and escaped back to his seat only to belatedly discover that sitting in the very front, where he could feel eyes on his back, was no escape at all.

_Bugger, _he thought, regretting his choice of seating. Ernie was still staring at him.

"Can you stop looking at me?" Harry pleaded. Ernie's eyes swung dramatically to the front, gazing at nothing in particular. His stiff posture wasn't necessarily better, but at least that was one set of eyes down. "Thank you."

Professor Flitwick then launched into an enthusiastic explanation of the branch of magic labeled 'Charms.' A lot of it Harry had already heard from his mother, but like Lily Potter, Filius Flitwick had a real passion for the subject that made even repeated material sound interesting and new. It was all about giving objects temporary properties they didn't have before, such as being able to float, be secret, or breathe underwater. Flitwick passed out feathers.

"That's not to say all charms behave the same. The summoning charm is all displacement, moving an object, but it is still a charm. Before Mr. Potter here called it, the pillow certainly wasn't going to move to him all on its own! It might get tricky when the object _can _move on its own but in the end, if it was moving in the direction you wanted it to, it wouldn't need a summoning, now would it?"

"Or the speed," Harry muttered under his breath. He really did not want to think about what would have happened if he had been a hair slower.

The image of that mouth, that eye, clung to him.

The last of the feathers were passed out with ceremony. "Alright, now for some hands on experience! This is the Levitation Charm, a simple flick of the wand and," Flitwick took aim at his own feather. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" It gracefully rose into the air. "Make sure you pronounce it properly: Win-GAR-dee-um lev-ee-OH-sa." He smiled at them all. "Have at it!"

Harry inspected his own feather and idly poked it with his wand. It was white with a slight purplish sheen to it, the stem was mottled brown. He could hear several voices trying the spell out, but Ernie seemed to content to wait for him to try it first.

Fine.

He lifted his wand. It was going to rise, it _would _rise: "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" The feather shot to the ceiling before exploding into a tuft of feathery bits. Harry's mouth fell open. "I meant to do that."

Someone behind him snorted. It might have been Zacharias Smith. Maybe.

Flitwick bustled over, staring up at the mess that was still hovering against the stone. "Well, that's certainly an interesting reaction. I didn't hear any problems with the pronunciation, just a simple flick?"

Harry dropped his wand onto the desk, unsure of how else to cancel the spell and watched bits of his feather float down slowly. It almost looked like it was breaking apart into dust. "Yes, sir."

Another feather was placed on his desk. "Try it again. Gentle. There is lift, yes, but you want it to hover."

He took a deep breath. Right. It would rise…a little? _"Wingardium Leviosa." _This time the feather only rose far out of reach, but at least it didn't explode.

"Excellent! Take another five points to Ravenclaw for being the first!" At that very moment, Justin Finch-Fletchley's feather burst into flame. "Goodness!"

Harry looked up at his floating feather and couldn't stop the bubbly feeling of accomplishment. Dropping his wand again, he waited until he could snatch his feather before turning to his desk mate. "Give it a try, it's not that hard."

"Says 'I-can-do-fourth-year-spells' Potter," Ernie said bluntly.

"Do you want help or not?" Harry said back just as shortly, raising an eyebrow when the other boy looked a bit sheepish.

"Sorry."

Harry nodded. Some people just had more pride than sense. "Alright, the first thing I did was look at my feather…" When Ernie Macmillan got three Hufflepuff house points for his shaky levitation, Harry would swear that watching someone he taught succeed was the best feeling ever. When he turned back to the feather on his desk, it had lost its sheen and almost seemed to be wilting sadly. Harry frowned, brushing his finger against the soft frills and watched it crumble to dust.

History of Magic promised to be interesting but didn't happen.

They all piled into the stuffy room and took their places behind the desks but no professor arrived. Most of the students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff really weren't the type to cause any trouble, but after fifteen minutes passed with no sign of a teacher, several started packing up their things.

"It's obvious they aren't coming," Zacharias Smith was saying. "Making us wait like this, honestly."

"What if something happened to them?" A dark haired girl whose name eluded Harry for the moment asked, tapping her fingers on her desk. "Like they got sick?"

"Then someone should have told us! Or get a replacement, I'm leaving."

"You know, a couple minutes after you walk out the door, the prof is going to arrive, right?" Michael said aloud. "That's just asking for trouble."

"Oh, come on, no one's coming!"

The room split into nebulous groups of 'leaving now,' 'waiting a few more minutes,' 'waiting even longer' and 'staying the entire class.' Harry was in the 'waiting a few more minutes' group, trying and failing to feel guilty about it. He could be finishing up his letters to everyone, looking around the Hogwarts library, getting started on his Charms essay…

Decision made, Harry packed up his things and left the classroom.

The library was quiet and empty, which actually felt a bit weird. All the libraries he visited had been full of parents with small children, university students, library assistants carrying books back and forth and the occasional paper airplane. Aunt Petunia would be lecturing him about how many books he was allowed to pick out _this _time or Uncle Vernon would be checking his watch every few minutes and his pager would buzz. He wasn't entirely sure if this was a good change yet. A few older students were clustered around one table, talking quietly with a few books in front of them and a rather stern old woman was eyeing them suspiciously.

Harry found himself a small table in the corner.

He set out his books, dug out some parchment and sat down. As soon as he scratched his name with ink, he found himself stopping. There was a nagging feeling, like he was forgetting something _really _important somewhere, left something behind. He looked down at his books, mentally cataloging them. Then his papers and quills.

His shadow had disappeared.

Harry felt himself tense, shifting. He looked around the library, eyeing the rows of books before looking up. Nothing but ceiling and small motes of dust the light from the windows caught.

Wait.

He got up and headed into the rows of books, eyes firmly pointed upwards, only flicking back into his path to make sure he wasn't going to collide with something. There, on the far side. He turned his body a bit, slipping passed a poorly formed corner of shelves. A dark red shade was creeping across a window. He walked through a spider's web of feeling, need, want, a pleasant haze settled on him with gossamer strands. Warm hands, red hair and hot chocolate.

_Come_

He ducked under a line of string with a sign on it he didn't read. For a brief moment, there was resistance, like he ran into a wall of solid air. He shrugged it off and felt it fall apart behind him.

Airy laughter. The kind you could almost breathe in. He could taste it on his tongue.

An amused baritone._ You obey _

Sultry alto._ Such a sweet boy _

Harry could feel a large smile spread across his face. Each step felt better, gaining more of himself back. He could walk forever. Light fingers touched him, tasting. What must have been hundreds of them, each strand of hair on his head was examined at once, ghosting over his face, trailing his limbs, poking him in the stomach.

The room stretched into an infinite corridor lined with bookshelves and Harry happily kept walking. It cooed into his ear.

_Let us have a look at you_

The fingers passed through the skin and something in him shifted, curled.

_You were Touched_

It prodded his necklace curiously, lifting it from him. Harry stared at the floating piece of jewelry hazily. His chest twinged. Shouldn't it be glowing? Why wasn't it…

"That's mine," he told it unsteadily. He stopped walking. It's broken, it's not working, it should be glowing- "You have to ask."

It laughed again, placing the necklace back into place. _Tell us what we want to know_

He found himself remembering the train, everything he thought, everything he felt coming forwards in crystal clear clarity. He wanted its attention, keep touching him, keep talking to him. He told it, eager to please. Meeting Theo, playing chess, meeting Neville, talking to the Prefects, the lights going out, saving Theo, the mouth, the eye, his _necklace_—

The window cracked.

Harry gasped. What was he _doing? _He was…he was—

He was sitting at his table, a neglected quill spilling ink onto his homework, students from all Houses milling about. He launched to his feet, trying to save his essay. What had he been doing? Daydreaming? How long? The ink splotch got larger. Bad job all around. "Shite!"

"Silence in the library!"

Harry's ears burned as he cleaned up. Obviously he hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep last night if he was going to be dozing off in the middle of the day. And from the way Pince was glaring at him, he should probably find someplace else to redo his work.

Tearing off a blank section, he scribbled two quick notes. _'Doing homework by the lake, come when class is done?'_ He handed the papers off to a bushy haired Gryffindor girl and an older Slytherin, asking them politely and earnestly to please pass them to Theodore Nott and Neville Longbottom? Please and thank you. Out the corner of his eye, the sun splaying through one of the back windows caught his attention. There was a pretty long crack through one of them, turning the warm yellow sunlight into a burning white.

He stared at it for a long moment.

Worth hacking off Pince even more for?

Nope.

* * *

"You skived off History? I knew you had it in you!"

"The professor didn't show!" A pause. "I reread the chapter we were supposed to cover today anyway."

"Ugh, never mind. Hopeless."

Harry rolled his eyes as Theo threw himself down onto the grass, scribbling a few more lines about the nature of Charms. Theo had yet to touch his homework which was exactly what Harry had suspected and the entire reason why they were out here on the shores of the lake in the first place. The boy was completely resistant to doing any work before the last minute. "Onwards, Ravenclaw," he muttered and the Slytherin huffed.

"I heard all about that, should have known it was you."

"Why would you hear about that?" Harry blinked. "What do you mean 'should have known?'"

Theo shrugged. "Overheard some of the older students talking about it. Can't let the Ravenclaws show us up, you know." He closed his eyes, looking for all the world like he could just drift off to sleep right there. Harry tickled him with his quill and was lazily swatted. "And you've been standing out before we got here."

Harry sighed, looking up at the sky where a few fluffy clouds lazily floated. That kind of logic was shaky, but he couldn't exactly say it was wrong. And that kind of irked him. If standing out meant people like Ernie Macmillan treated him weirdly, then he didn't want it. Speaking of…

"Hey, Theo?" He got something like a growl from the boy. "Macmillan asked if I was dark in Charms. Explain?"

Reluctantly, Theo opened an eye. "Let me guess, after he heard you were a Potter?" He sat up, brushing errant blades of grass off his robes. "I'm not going to ask why you don't know this already, but wizard families are split into three groups: Dark, Neutral and Light." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Dark families have a lot of Dark witches and wizards." At Harry blank stare at the circular explanation, he sighed. "They use Dark magic. Neutral families use Dark magic _sometimes. _Like, they dabble or something, but don't really _use _it. And Light families don't use it at all."

Harry held up a finger. "Wait, but The Dark Forces textbook says that all curses, hexes and jinxes are Dark Arts. So Light families don't even jinx?" He searched his brain. Blast, couldn't remember the name. "Not even to trip someone?"

Theo's foot thumped. "Listen up, I'm only going to say this once. There is Dark Arts which is what will hurt someone, and Dark _magic._"

"Which will hurt _really _bad?" Harry guessed hesitantly.

"There are the Unforgiveables. You cast one and you're in prison for life. One of them is called the Cruciatus Curse and it's…" The boy blew out a harsh breath. "It's a torture spell. And there are restricted potions that can erase all your memories, make you take suggestions or kill you." Theodore Nott's dark brown eyes looked straight into his intently. "Dark magic is powerful but it's also scary. You can do anything with it. _Anything._"

"And the Potters are Dark?" Harry whispered. Just after he asked, he suddenly didn't want to know. He didn't want to know that his family went around torturing people with magic, or making someone lose their memories. His mother's words came back to him unbidden.

_'I just want you to have at least this one year where magic is wonderful and exciting and solves more problems than it causes.'_

"Never mind," he said quickly, waving his hands in front of him as if to ward off the answer. "I don't want to know—"

"They're Light." Harry paused. Theo's face had blanked and Harry suddenly remembered that his father was in prison. "Notts are Dark."

Harry didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Damn straight!" Theo suddenly snapped. "Everyone thinks Dark means _evil_ and it doesn't! Just because you can, doesn't mean you _will._ What if someone needs to be controlled, like," He ripped a handful of grass from the ground. "Like they're too important and stubborn but if they just do what they're_ told_ everything would be better? Or, or we're fighting someone and need to get through their shields? Only Dark magic does that. Or—" he stopped. "And Light doesn't mean _good._"

"I get it," Harry said a bit shakily. He didn't realize—well that was part of the problem, wasn't it? Books weren't personal. "I'm sorry," he apologized again.

Theo accepted it stiffly. "You didn't know. And lots of people think the Potters are going to be Dark or at least Neutral, so you should get used to it too."

"Um, why do they think that?"

That got him an odd look. "Lily Potter? Dark witch? Hello?"

"I—"

"Harry!"

Shoving the conversation into the back of his mind, Harry turned to see Neville running towards them with Alex following him at a far more sedate pace in the distance. He waved them over and watched the Gryffindor come to a huffing and puffing stop. Neville's robes were rumpled and a bit stained with some kind of greenish stuff which Harry thought a bit strange. Theo should have had Potions with Neville, but he was pristine.

Save for some newly gained grass marks and scruff.

"Sorry I'm late, had to take someone to Pomfrey, then stopped by the owlery." He bent over, hands on knees trying to catch his breath. "Theodore."

"Neville." Theo flung his handful of grass at him. "Sit down before you pass out, mate."

Longbottom immediately dropped to the ground, groaning. "Why'd I run? I could have just walked, why run?"

Harry snickered. "I heard it from Theo but how'd you find class?"

"I'm pretty sure Snape is evil," Neville said immediately, flinging an arm over his face. "He hates Gryffindors." Harry could see a beetle of some sort crawling on his sleeve and flicked it off for him. "Newborough was pretty interesting. Hey!" He scrambled to his feet, pulling out his wand. _"Protego."_ A shimmering shield poured out of the wand. It flickered a few times before finally dying.

"What does that do?" Harry was pretty impressed while Theo tried not to look like he was too.

"I bet I could do it too if I tried…" he muttered unhappily.

"It's a shield charm. Newborough said he's only going to teach us useful spells, that was the first one. We also went over some of the Stinging Hex but didn't get to practice it." Neville grinned widely. "Wicked, isn't it?"

"So it is," Alex's calm voice reached them. She favored Neville with a small, proud smile. It was barely there, but all of them could see it. "After just one class?"

Neville nodded, his grin turning slightly goofy for seemingly no reason Harry could figure out. "I need more practice but…"

"Then practice," she told him kindly before addressing Harry. "Mr. Potter, the Headmaster would like to see you in his office after dinner."

A sharp spike of worry shot through him. "This isn't about History, is it?" If he got detention _this _early…he didn't want to imagine how disappointed his mum would be.

"I cannot say. Perhaps." She gave him a look then, like she was trying to figure out how History of Magic could possibly fit into whatever puzzle she was working on. "Just find your Head of House when you're done eating and he'll lead you." Message delivered, she cast an eye over them all as she turned away with her Prefect badge glinting in the light. "Don't stay out too much longer or I'll be forced to take points."

Harry nodded. A slight cold breeze was coming off the lake, the very first hint that summer was ending. He started gathering up his parchment and quills. "I'm going to head back in, and Nev, you have to show me where the owlery is, alright?"

"Huh?" Neville looked at him surprise, not having heard a single thing he said. "Sorry, I was…um…"

"My word, Neville _Longbottom!_" Theo's voice went sharp and high pitched, much like Harry imagined a scandalized Petunia Dursley would sound like. "Sweet on Blackguard!" He made kissing noises.

"I am not!" Neville looked ready to clock him, a raging blush turning his face red. "She's just nice and smart!" He slapped a meaty palm over Theo's mouth before the Slytherin could say anything else—and he looked like he wanted to—glancing frantically over his shoulder for any sign that Theo was as loud as he thought he was.

Harry took pity on him. "I don't think she heard anything. Your secret is safe."

Neville wasn't going to be caught like that. "I don't fancy her," he hissed. "Gran would have my head." Hooking Theo's head underneath his arm, Neville started to march back to the castle, dragging the smaller boy with him. "First my Remembrall, you keep this up I'm not responsible for what I do, Nott."

"Let me go! I'm sorry!"

"I don't fancy Blackguard."

"Ok! You don't! I won't bring it up again!"

Harry smiled slightly as he trailed behind them, having an answer for the letter he was going to send Dudley. Theo was Thana, no doubt about it.

* * *

Severus Snape was pacing.

It wasn't an activity he usually indulged in. For one thing, anyone who saw you could easily deduce that something was bothering you and from there, it was only a matter of time and timing before they figured out exactly what it was. He had a habit of pacing in front of his classrooms, if only because it was extremely evident to them all that the _students _were what bothered him, with their clumsy fingers, small minds and a disturbing tendency to melt perfectly good cauldrons no matter how many times he told the little fools that the nettles go in AFTER the—

He took a deep breath. Classes were over. Until tomorrow anyway.

He grimaced.

Ad he still had the entire year ahead of him, imagine that…

"Severus, my boy, whatever that chair has done to you, I'm sure you can find it in your heart to forgive it."

Snape blinked and realized that he had apparently been giving the overstuffed arm chair his worst glare. "There is a distinct lack of First Year Gryffindors," he said shortly.

The Headmaster chuckled as he lowered himself into his own chair behind his desk. "Ah, victim of opportunity?" His eyes twinkled merrily behind his spectacles. "Fascinating, isn't it? We only have to wish to find an opponent and one appears, wooden legs and comfortable to sit on."

Snape took the hint and sat. "Blackguard's insistence on taking Potter under her wing worries me."

"Of her family or of her?" Dumbledore asked shrewdly, picking up a small candy from the tin on his desk. "Sherbet Lemon?" At Snape's scowl he popped it into his mouth. "More for me…" he mumbled as several portraits tittered from their places on the walls. "Lysander is not known for his political acumen, content to follow in the wake of bigger fish."

"Never mind the sharks in the water? The girl is Slytherin," Severus said with no small amount of pride. Often the childish schemes of his House threatened to turn his hair grey, but in every year there were a few emeralds. He felt quite satisfied with his Prefects: Renshaw was able to intimidate students with impunity and Blackguard kept him in line. "Did she receive orders or suggestions is the question. And from who?"

"I'm under the impression that she is an exceptional student."

"Her best subject is Defense Against the Dark Arts," Severus admitted reluctantly, knowing where this conversation was going. Yet again, one of his snakes was going to be investigated for venom in their fangs. "She is knowledgeable but not _too _knowledgeable from what I can tell." Not that he had been looking very hard.

He suspected Dumbledore already knew that.

Eager to end the conversation and get to dinner, he placed some vials onto the desk. "Memories," he told the Headmaster unnecessarily. "That she wanted a secrecy vow for."

Albus Dumbledore's eyes darkened sadly as he gazed into the silvery liquid. "Of course she would." He sighed, reaching for another candy. "I remember a bright young girl sitting where you are now, thrilled with her Prefect badge." Dumbledore was far away. "Absolutely delighted. And spent the better part of the next two weeks buried in the Restricted section of the library. The most intriguing ideas, remember her sixth year Charms project?"

"Notice-Me-Not." Severus sank into his chair. Of course, by then, he had already lost her friendship. He had to overhear it. His lips twisted bitterly. He was always overhearing things, wasn't he? "She could do anything she set her mind to."

Perhaps it should have bothered him more that they were talking about her like this. Like it was _past. _But it was. No changing that.

"Given half the chance, I knew she would go far." Dumbledore seemed to come back to his office from years long gone, a random shooting star streaking across his hat. "Thank you, Severus."

It was almost funny. Every time Albus Dumbledore thanked him, it was for something he felt completely awful for. Scum of the earth. Unworthy.

"Don't," he found himself saying. "Not this time."

Dumbledore looked at him from behind half-moon glasses. "I understand." And he did. Severus could see it. But it still made him want to scream, shout that he didn't know what it was like to lose the one person you cared about to your own stupidity, that seeing the boy was twisting the knife sprinkled with salt. He was angry and grieving and _terrified_—

Dumbledore understood.

He could see it.

He swallowed. Nodded. And swept out of the Headmaster's office.

* * *

Harry wanted to be the Headmaster of Hogwarts when he grew up. If only for that desk. Because there was something about sitting behind a massive desk with _claws _that just spoke to him. He had pet projects for two classes now: those keys in Charms and that desk for Transfiguration. So far, so good.

The rest of the room was almost as interesting. Quirky little noises tickled his ears coming from a number of silver instruments of some sort, sitting on spider leg tables and puffing smoke of various colors. Green. Purple. Blue. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, some of them looking back at him disapprovingly while others dozed. He waved at a particularly unpleasant woman who harrumphed. Sitting behind the brilliant desk on a dusty shelf was a shabby hat, looking like it had seen better days and then there was the Headmaster himself.

Who also looked as if he had seen better days.

Or better decades.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was wearing periwinkle and blue robes sparkling with shooting stars and meteor showers. And he was _old. _Harry knew he had to be, of course, he had read about Dumbledore and all of his titles and 12 uses for dragon blood research. Everyone and their grandmother had an Albus Dumbledore chocolate frog card Harry had found out, after nearly being mobbed for his Cornelius Agrippa.

But the Dumbledore on the card had been strong and wizardly looking, with the longest beard Harry ever had the privilege of seeing. This one looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over.

And then that would be the end of him.

"Are you well, sir?"

The Headmaster smiled at him convincingly and Harry relaxed a little, just a bit reassured that the man wasn't going to keel over while he was the only other person in this room. "Forgive me. I find that I have a lot on my mind and nowhere to put things." He held out a tin. "Sherbet Lemon?"

Never one to pass up free candy, Harry took one. It was sweet, just a bit sour, with fizzly powder in the middle. He could vaguely remember having some of these before which surprised him, these were muggle sweets?

Dumbledore actually looked pleasantly surprised for a second. He chuckled. "It's been quite a while since I've had a visitor that took me up on my offer. I've quite forgotten what it was like. Now," He snagged a candy for himself. "I'm told there was a bit of a problem with your History of Magic class?"

Harry tried his hardest not to look guilty. "Yes, sir. The professor didn't show."

Dumbledore hummed, interlacing his hands on the desk before him. "Are you aware that for every other class, History of Magic proceeded as planned?"

Harry winced. Obviously, the professor had walked in just after they left, like Michael said would happen. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "No, sir. Am I to serve detention, sir?"

"Detention? Oh, no dear boy, it was by no fault of your own."

Harry breathed a small sigh of relief. "Were they sick or injured? Why didn't they come?"

"I'm afraid Professor Cuthbert Binns is dead," the Headmaster said cheerily. "Passed away in his sleep in the staff room."

Harry was horrified. "Dead?"

"Quite so. Two hundred, sixteen years and counting." Harry's mouth opened but nothing came out. "By far the most senior member of our teaching staff with a unique insight into our very own history."

"A ghost," the boy finally managed. "Then why didn't he show up!" Belatedly. "Sir."

"Perhaps you can tell me how many ghosts you've seen since you arrived, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "Well, none, I guess." He looked up to see Albus Dumbledore looking at him intently. "It is my fault, isn't it, sir?"

"For reasons we have yet to determine, our castle ghosts can't stand being around you. I doubt this is your intention…" Harry shook his head rapidly. He had actually been looking forward to meeting them. "Well, there is nothing for it then. Professor Binns simply won't teach your class so long as you are in it, which creates a small problem."

"Sorry," Harry muttered and was slightly disturbed to see the Headmaster's blue eyes start twinkling as if enjoying a private joke.

"I daresay the First Year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class will be the envy of the school in no time. I must ask you, however, did you go into the Restricted section of the library?"

"What? No!" Their eyes met and Dumbledore's brow furrowed.

"I shall be sure to inform our Madam Pince that you are innocent of any wrong doing then. She seems rather convinced that you somehow managed to collapse the detection charms." He seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts. "How are you getting on otherwise? Enjoying Hogwarts, are you?"

"Yes, sir." Harry smiled shyly. He wasn't in trouble? He wasn't in trouble! "It's amazing."

"Your Head of House has been regaling us all with your summoning charm." Harry groaned. Happy positive feelings, gone. "Is a demonstration too much to ask before you return to your common room?" With seemingly no effort at all, Dumbledore transfigured a stray piece of paper into a fluffy pillow decorated with bright flowers. And then his face hardened a little, adopting a white-knuckled grip on his wand.

Sighing, Harry hopped out of his chair and pulled out his own wand. Hopefully this would be the _last _time until Fourth Year, which was forever away. _"Accio _pillow." He was prepared this time, shutting his eyes and mouth just before the pillow hit him in the face a little more than tatters and feathers. He brushed his robes off, making sure to get every stray feather. "Good day, sir."

Albus Dumbledore remained at his desk for several minutes after Harry Potter left his office, deep in thought. Beside him, Fawkes' perch was empty. It wasn't just the ghosts that avoided the boy.

Magic flowed, created patterns. Runes, arithmancy, numerology. The wand was new and suited well. Pronunciation flawless. A spell cast correctly was a spell cast correctly. Albus studied the edges of the transfigured pillow cover, where he could just see a faint charcoal out line the tears as if they had been burned. It was spreading outwards in tiny black veins of corruption. When he released the transfiguration, the paper it had once been crumbled to ash.

_Mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine_

His wand hummed and he tightened his grip on his own mind, prying his fingers from the Elder Wand one careful digit at a time.

Harry Potter had cast the summoning charm correctly, albeit lacking in control.

It was his magic that was twisted.

He sighed heavily. A few puzzle pieces were sliding into place. Silver memories in a pensieve. "Oh, you poor boy."

* * *

_Oh, I am so jealous of you, Harry! Getting to go to Hogwarts a full year ahead of me, it's only been a few days and I'm already bored out of my mind. Uncle Cadmus is a real stick in the mud. GRUMPY. It didn't help that I kind of broke all the windows on the second floor. You know that face your Aunt makes when she's happy for Dudley but wants to frown at you at the same time? It was like that. Powerful accidental magic is good, breaking windows bad. I don't even know why he was mad, the house elves repaired them anyway._

_Did you play with your chess set yet? I wanted it to be a surprise. If there is a lot of magic around, it's magical too. I had some help charming it since I don't have a wand yet (still jealous). You don't know her yet, but I think you'll like Mrs. Tonks a lot. I think her daughter graduated from Hogwarts recently. I think. Whatever. Ravenclaw, huh? I knew it. I don't think you could go anywhere else. Well, **I **plan on being in Gryffindor. You haven't mentioned your housemates, they aren't bothering you are they?_

_And I don't care what I have to give you, but if you got Circe, Fulbert the Fearful or Lily Potter (can you believe that?) in your chocolate frogs, I want them. You're crazy with cards so I'm sure you'll get it sooner or later. My brilliant plan for finishing my collection. Isn't it unfair that First Years can't bring brooms? I just know I'm getting the latest for my birthday this year. You better get me something good too!_

_Don't tell me about your classes or the books you read. Fun stuff only!_

_(ink splotch)_

_Ok, if weird stuff happens, that counts too. Double points. Be sure to tell your mum about it too, it could be important. I heard about the train attack and I'm really glad you're ok. You don't have my permission to die, you know. I'll get mad at you. So. Don't. Ok?_

_I mean it._

_Thana_


	7. Eighteen

**_Deathly Hallowed_**

_The Tale of Three Brothers was not a legend. It was a warning. No one cheats Death. And luckily for Lily Potter, the promise of the Cloak's return in exchange for her son's life was a fair deal._

* * *

_I'm dreaming every night of a large storm. The clouds spiral and the air is heavy. Lightning but no thunder. I'm at the safe house, it's untouched and the dream doesn't end until I go inside. The books are there, the runes and it comes from the window just as it first did. But then when it reaches me, it just stops, watching. Every night. It just looks. I don't know what its watching me for, what does it want from me? Why is it watching me? Why won't it stop? – Lily Potter_

* * *

_My watcher needs a name. Morrigan, Tuoni, Persephone, Anubis, Hades, Thanatos, Freyja, Pluto, Erlik, Azrael… - Lily Potter_

* * *

Harry ambled into the Great Hall that morning early. He had checked, double checked, _triple _checked Hogwarts: A History and was as sure as he could be that he couldn't get into trouble for what he had planned. He snuck a glance at the Head Table before quickly walking over to Slytherin table. He snagged a seat in the vague First Year vicinity and hunched his shoulders a bit so that his blue and bronze tie didn't pop out.

The older students began to trickle in first, Alex with them to his relief. Hopefully, having one of the prefects on his side would make this easier. He waved at her and snickered as she froze in the process of sitting. "Good morning!"

She sat heavily. "Mr. Potter." She wasn't the only one to look towards the Head Table. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for Theo." He strained all the innocence he could into his voice and tried to look cute. Sometimes Aunt Petunia fell for it, but it was iffy and something told him the Slytherin would be a tough sell. "It's not against the rules. I checked."

"And you are aware that if a Professor asks you to return to your table, you will have to comply?"

"But—"

"They are free to dictate seating, Mr. Potter."

Harry glared mulishly. "This is one of those 'can make up new rules' kind of things, isn't it?"

Alex had one of those small, sincere smiles that was halfway to addictive with its perceived rarity. It was also contagious and Harry found himself smiling back. She got up and took the seat across from him, ignoring the angry snort from the boy she had been sitting next to with practiced ease. "I'll cover for you this time."

He beamed.

Several of what must have been her year mates gave them puzzled looks, but just as quickly shook it off and took their places. The Slytherin Head of House spotted him and got this strange half-angry, half-scared face as if Harry was a boy shaped pile of dungbombs at the table waiting to explode. Alex shook her head at him when he opened his mouth, raised an eyebrow and got into this weird silent conversation with the man that ended up softening the expression on Severus Snape's face to just 'surly.'

Harry got a terse nod and was then promptly ignored.

"What was that about?"

She looked at him thoughtfully then up at the Staff table and hummed. "Not sure."

Well, that was helpful. Harry rolled his eyes as platters of food began to appear on the table. Neville sent him a double take from the Gryffindor table before shrugging. Harry snuck him a wave. Theo Nott stumbled into the Hall behind several other late comers, yawning. He plopped himself into the empty seat beside Harry but didn't actually notice him until he was halfway through his bacon.

"Wait…" Nott looked down at his tie, as if expecting it to be a different color. "Am I at the wrong table?"

"No." Harry was amused.

"Oh." Theo blinked sleepily and bit into a biscuit. "Are _you _at the wrong table?"

"Yup."

"Alright." Harry waited. Theo stated drinking his pumpkin juice, and then jerked wide awake, spilling it. "Hey! "

Harry almost choked on his tongue in laughter. Alex took pity on her fellow Slytherin. "Are you usually this slow in the mornings?"

Theo looked shifty, patting a napkin in his mess with red cheeks. "…No."

"Liar."

Nott groaned and buried his head into his hands, his wet napkin dripping pumpkin juice off the edge of the table. "Is it too late to go back to sleep?" He then yelped as Harry tugged at something on his head. "What was that for!"

Harry looked back at him in shock, clenched between his fingers was a short strand of hair. "You have grey hairs?"

Theo squinted his eyes at it as Alex inclined her head. Her gaze was suddenly sharp, tracing over the single silvery hair and looking over the boy's scalp. She leaned forward on her hands. "Bit too young for those, aren't you?"

Nott grabbed it and ran his hand through his hair from where it had been plucked repeatedly. "Great. I'm going to be an old man before my OWLS."

"Grey hair makes you look distinguished," Harry said with the air of someone who really didn't know what he was talking about and knew it. "That's what my uncle says, anyway."

"It makes you look _old_." Theo countered sourly. Harry couldn't disagree with that logic. He didn't even try.

"Mr. Potter." Harry turned to see a disapproving Minerva McGonagall staring down at him with an arched eyebrow. "You seem to have gotten lost, I see."

"I'm with my friends, ma'am." Harry said quietly. Look cute. Look innocent. He idly poked at his sausage and didn't have to try too hard to look like he was scared of getting punished. He thought it was working a bit, as the hard frown the woman was wearing eased.

The Deputy Headmistress eyed him before she sighed in something that was not quite exasperation. "Continue to stay out of trouble, if you would?" Harry nodded quickly. "You won't be in my Transfiguration class, Mr. Potter. A separate assignment has been set aside for you in the Headmaster's office."

Harry's eyebrows jumped. "What, why?"

She gave him a stern look that was slightly imprecise. She wasn't entirely sure why either. "We have been informed that there are extenuating circumstances involved. And Mr. Potter?" Harry cringed, waiting for the point deduction. "The Headmaster is fond of sugar quills."

He blinked in surprise as she walked off. "Well, I figured he had a sweet tooth but…are all his passwords candy?"

"All the greatest wizards are mad," Theo told him solemnly, imparting great wisdom. "Bloody barmy. All of them. No exceptions."

"Dumbledore?"

"Yup."

"You-Know-Who?"

"Very."

"Lily Potter?"

Harry grinned wolfishly as Theo held up a finger, mouth still hanging open as he aborted his first answer. "Alex? Help?"

"Save yourself."

* * *

Defense Against the Dark Arts took place in one of the many nigh abandoned Dueling rooms on the second floor of the castle. The raised elongated platform dominated the middle of the room and vaguely people shaped dummies were lined up along the walls. Newspaper clippings completely covered one corner like a black and white collage, large diagrams dissecting various creatures. And Harry's instantly favorite feature: a moving image of a roaring dragon that had a wall all to itself.

Professor Newborough was a morose middle aged man who was missing the middle finger on his right hand and had a jagged, painful looking scar crossing the bridge of his nose and cutting into his left ear. He stood on the platform as the joint Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff class filtered in, legs apart and lazily twirling his wand. Harry thought he was the kind of person that never missed _anything_, even when it looked like they weren't paying attention.

With a flick of his wand, the door swung shut with a loud clap. The room hushed.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts." His voice was soft and brittle. "The name of this class is a misnomer. There _is _no 'defense' against the Dark Arts." His eyes were a stormy blue that pierced them all to their seats. He began to pace, walking the length of the platform all the way to the end and back. "There is not getting hit. There is shielding against select spells. There are counter spells for others. There is not getting into that situation in the first place." He stopped. "Which of you has heard of this class before?" He posed the question to all of them, but he was staring at Harry. "Mr. Potter?"

"Neville told me some, sir."

Newborough nodded slowly. "Mr. Longbottom's father is a decorated auror, instrumental in the First War. Well?" He snapped suddenly. Harry jumped. "What did he say about it?"

"Um, that you only teach useful spells, sir!"

The professor's lip curled. "Useful, hmm? I assume he was speaking about the Shield Charm. A moderately difficult spell, apparently, with a large value. Would you believe that a great many adult wizards are incapable of that charm?" He was deceptively mild and no one wanted to speak up. "Small hand movement, simple incantation, blocks most spells and some physical elements and even those employed in the Ministry of Magic can't do it."

He chuckled softly. And then spat, "_Incompetents!" _He glared at the class. "After all, we weren't just fighting for our lives and the lives of our families merely a _decade ago!_" He stood tall, looming. "In this class you will take responsibility for what you learn. You will research. You will ask questions. You will practice or you will leave. Is this understood?"

There was a frightened chorus of "Yes, sir."

"Good. As this is the first class, the first spell you learn will be a group effort. Suggestions."

Harry timidly raised his hand. "Shield charm?"

Newborough stared down at him, eyebrows raised. "Following in Mr. Longbottom's footsteps, are you? I must inform you, Mr. Potter, that by order of the Headmaster you are not to cast on another person in this class. Do you understand this?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. What? "Yes, sir."

He nodded sharply. "Shield charm it is then. Pick a dummy. Wands out."

It took Harry three tries to get the shield to form but when it did it was all…wrong. Instead of the bright, transparent blue it was a misty grey and made Harry feel like he was looking into a smoky window. It was turning in a slow vortex that was hypnotizing.

"That is peculiar." Newborough stood next to him, staring. "Cast it again."

Harry did so. Same thing.

Wordless, Newborough cast something at him, a bolt of red and it impacted with the shield. It didn't dissipate, or glance off, it was _swallowed. _It was like the spell was a pebble dropped into a pond, disturbing the mist as it passed through but didn't come out the other side.

Both of them stared.

Professor Newborough rounded him, inspecting the shield from all angles. "There is no curve," he murmured. "A flat plane…" He cast the same spell from over Harry's shoulder and watched it vanish. "That's not a shield."

Harry let the spell go, a small cramp in his stomach untangling with it. "What am I doing wrong?"

He watched the boy cast the shield charm once more and shook his head. "Nothing." He gave Harry a calculating look, interested. "I believe your first project should be cataloging the differences between your variant and the standard Shield charm. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir." As he left to help his classmates, Harry continued to stare into the gently swirling smoke. It wasn't a perfect spiral, oddities appeared the longer he looked into it. Some places were darker, other wisps bordered on white and in the center—

_What was that?_

Harry peered into it. Nothing but smoke. He let go. It crumpled inwards, like a full balloon that was having the air sucked out of it instead of winking out like the canceled spell it should have been like.

_ "Protego."_ It snapped back into existence. Harry bit his lip and slowly brought his finger close to the swirling vortex. Breathed. The tip of his finger disappeared and he hurriedly pulled it out and flexed. He still had it. He stuck his hand in and it was like he had reached into a heavy fog. Droplets of water clung to his skin as he swirled his arm around and no matter what, he couldn't see beyond the mist. To his eyes, it was as if his arm simply ceased to exist past that point. He stretched out his fingers _and something brushed against them._

He yanked his hand out and dropped his wand. His heart skipped a couple of beats and had lodged itself in the middle of his throat.

Something was _very wrong _with his magic.

* * *

"Sugar Quills."

The Headmaster's office was much the same as it had been last time with a few differences, mainly the long table holding blocks or balls of different kinds of materials on it. Glass, metals, different kinds of wood, cloth balls…Dumbledore looked up at him from his claw footed desk and smiled genially. He was wearing red, purple and gold robes today, roses perpetually blooming along his hem while a few bees zipped about.

"Welcome to Transfiguration!" He shook his head wistfully. "It has been many years since I was a professor. Many, many years."

"What happens if I cast a spell on someone?" Harry blurted, fidgeting with anxiety.

Dumbledore's smile shrunk. "This situation is rather unprecedented however I suspect that there is a warping influence on your magic. Spells wouldn't quite work the way they should. Perhaps it will do nothing and this caution ends up being unnecessary." Dumbledore's smile had vanished completely. "We will have to see."

Harry nodded. It's been two days, if nothing happened by now, then perhaps Theodore Nott was perfectly fine. The summoning charm had worked just fine. "What are we working on first, sir?"

"First, some words of caution." He stood from behind his desk slowly and Harry was once again struck with how old the man was. "Transfiguration is as complex as imagination and as dangerous as an idea made real." Harry jerked back as a harmless bit of fluff on the table shifted into a large snake. Dumbledore released the transfiguration mid-hiss. "My apologies for alarming you," he rumbled, coughing lightly. "I find it best to enforce the dangers first. That was a snake."

Harry tried not to glare at the matter-of-fact statement. "I could see that."

"Ah, yes. It certainly looked like a snake but now I ask you, was it a snake? Could it be agitated? Would it bite if threatened? Was it poisonous? Would it chase prey?" Harry thought about it. Those fangs had certainly _looked _real, and it didn't seem too happy but in the end, it was a ball of fluff wasn't it?

"No," Dumbledore told him softly. "The moment my magic imposed a form on it, it _became _the snake. Magic is reality, altered. And reality does not take kindly to change. It will fight and it will struggle. You will find that what you intend to happen is often not the result and whatever you change, it _will _change back."

Harry looked down at the row of materials on the table. "So if I changed metal into a sandwich and someone ate it…" He shuddered, imagining shards of metal erupting out of his stomach. "I understand, sir."

"Very well. Then let us begin."

Harry's first practical was to turn a matchstick into a metal needle. And he couldn't do it. He tried. His matchstick got longer, started getting maybe a bit pointy, maybe, but it felt like he was dragging it through every step through sheer force of will. Dumbledore was watching him carefully with a drawn brow.

"It…" He stamped his foot in frustration. This wasn't fair; he got every other spell easily! "It doesn't want to change!"

"So I see." Dumbledore laced his hands together. "Perhaps…" He looked up. "Attempt to make a wooden needle."

That was much easier even as a slight headache pulsed behind his eyes. The red match head broke apart into tiny pebbles that embedded into the needle, creating peculiar wood grains. It had a fine point and even an elongated hole for the eye. The Headmaster picked it up and inspected it critically. "Interesting, this certainly matches what I've been told of your other classes. Spells come naturally to you, don't they?" He placed it back onto the table. "To metal, if you would, Mr. Potter."

Harry pointed his wand at his wooden needle. Metal. Iron, maybe? He could do that couldn't he?

_No._

Harry wavered. He felt like he was up against the edge of a line, the edge of a _cliff_ and everything was screaming at him _do not cross_. It would be simple. Wood to metal. In his mind's eye, the foreign image of a lattice stretched out in empty space. Wood to metal. He _could. _Much like he could take that one step forward into the abyss.

"I can't." Harry amended his statement. "I shouldn't."

Dumbledore was doing a terrible job of looking surprised; if that was the look he had been trying for. "It is wood, and perhaps, you feel as thought it should stay wood?"

He shrugged. "More like just…don't." It had nothing to do with what it was made of. Trying to shift it into another type of wood rammed against that same mental barrier. _Don't._

For a long moment, Dumbledore stared at the wooden match. "Release the transfiguration."

"Uh," Harry said intelligently. He shifted from one foot to the other. "Release?"

"Can you not cancel its form?"

Harry waved in the needle's vague direction. It was like the levitation charm from yesterday. He wasn't holding on to anything. "There's nothing to let go of?"

The Headmaster straightened. The look on his face was one of defeat, his eyes closed and his cheeks sagged with gravity. "I was mistaken. It would seem that you cannot be taught Transfiguration, Mr. Potter."

"What?" Harry snapped, wide eyed. "Why not? I changed it! It's a needle, I mean, it's not metal but if I just practice—"

_"No."_ Dumbledore thundered. To Harry, it was as if he gained ten feet in height, a palpable aura of power exuding from him and for the first time, was _the _Albus Dumbledore. "You cannot be taught Transfiguration for the same reason I suspect the more complex spells will fail you completely. Your magic isn't _magic_, Harry. Not entirely."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. His shoulders slumped and he was once again, just a man. His hand rubbed his forehead slowly. "It's alchemy."

* * *

"So…I'm not going to die horribly?"

Harry thumped his head onto the small wood table and groaned loudly. Of course, that was what Theo would focus on. Well. He supposed the Slytherin had a very good reason for it. However, when your friends comes to you in distress about how all of his spells after Third Year were going to start _unraveling_, the tactful thing to do is comfort him first. _Then _you can get down to the gritty details.

"No, Theo, you aren't going to die horribly."

Neville rapped his knuckles onto the table thoughtfully, his red and gold tie standing out almost painfully in comparison to his friends. "And he said he'd owl Nicholas Flamel? You're sure?"

Harry lifted his head slightly. "You know him?"

"I don't know, the name sounds really familiar for some reason." Neville looked over at Nott, who simply shrugged.

"Don't look at me. Nan made sure I learned the important stuff." He stretched out in his seat. "Money and property."

"And everything else can go hang, right?" Harry said sarcastically, still down on the table and completely oblivious to the disapproving and suspicious looks he was getting from the librarian. Neville wasn't, glancing back every so often and wincing.

"OWLS. _Then _it can all go hang."

"Well, it's pretty obvious that Flamel has to be an alchemist of some sort," the Gryffindor offered, trying to get them back on track. "Which is strange enough on its own. It's pretty much died out as a discipline."

Harry lifted his head. "Why? Magic is magic, isn't it?"

"It's restrictive. There are a lot of rules you have to follow or you can mess up _really _badly." He clapped his hands together gently. "Boom. Lots of old magic is like that. Deals have to be fair or," He gave a shaky shrug, trying to look like he wasn't bothered. "It takes you."

"You can summon things with alchemy," Theo said with forced nonchalance as he idly flipped through Harry's textbooks. Neville's eyes darted around nervously, trying to make sure that no one was listening in. "Too many wizards calling things they can't put down and it starts getting outlawed everywhere—"

"Can we talk about something else?"

Theo's eyes glinted. "Don't have the nerves for Dark magic, Longbottom?"

Neville glared at him. "In a public library with no privacy charms? I'm a Gryffindor, I'm not _stupid._"

Time to intervene. "Alright, alright. I'm not really interested in Dark magic, just the basics." Harry waved them both down, trying to figure out if they just liked egging each other on or were genuinely clashing over nothing. "Alchemist. Nicholas Flamel. Dumbledore knows him. What else?"

He got two identical blank stares.

He sighed. "And that's it."

Neville sat up in his seat. "Hold on a mo." Harry watched him run off quizzically. He came back with a bushy brown haired girl that was vaguely familiar, trailing behind him with a very strong 'lost puppy' vibe coming off her. Her tie was also red and gold and she looked like she didn't exactly know what she was doing there. "This is Hermione Granger. Granger, Harry Potter and Theodore Nott."

Hermione's eyes kept flickering to Theo's green and silver tie as she greeted them. "Neville said you needed help researching something? Is this for your DADA? Wait, Harry Potter, you're the first year who can cast the summoning charm!" She took a breath before commenting shyly, "Your mum's in quite a few books."

Harry stared. What should he respond to first? "She says they didn't get any of the details right, yes I can and it's actually just a general search. Nicholas Flamel, alchemist." He spread his hands out helplessly. "We don't know where to start. Would you help?"

Hermione grinned widely and Harry was a little taken aback. Why was she so happy about being asked to help them look through books? He liked books. He liked reading books. _For fun. _This was just going to be a slog through texts that may or may not have the information he wanted inside. And _that _was just boring.

The girl pulled a chair over and joined them. "Count me in!"

Theo gave her a narrow eyed look, but after shooting quick glances at Harry and Neville he stayed quiet and burrowed his head a little deeper into his arms sleepily. They didn't even notice when he fell asleep.

* * *

Harry crawled into his bed, banging his knee against an almost mint copy of Hogwarts: A History and sending it spilling onto the floor. With a sigh, he leaned out to snag it. He really should have put it back into his trunk, but he was already in bed and really didn't want to get up and pull the heavy thing out. He stuffed the book into the small space between the edge of the bed and the wall, making a mental note to remind himself that that was where he put it.

"So…is it true?"

Harry burrowed under the covers. "Is what true?"

"That you're too good for normal classes!" Terry burst out, like water out of a hose that had been stepped on. "So you have to take Transfiguration with _the _Albus Dumbledore!"

Harry snorted. "It's not what you think," he assured the other boy. "My magic is just weird."

"Professor Newborough said you weren't allowed to cast on people," Michael said quietly from the top bunk and Terry pounced on it.

"That's right! How come?"

"I _told _you already. My magic is weird. The Headmaster is helping me fix it, that's all." His dorm mates gave him skeptical looks but Harry didn't budge. That was all he was going to tell them. The way rumours seemed to spread in this school, the last thing he wanted to do was even hint to anyone else that he would start failing his practicals after Third Year. Neville and Theo were supportive, Hermione didn't know and Dumbledore promised to help but Harry wasn't going to hold his breath for a miracle. "Really."

Grumbling Terry started fluffing up his pillow, clearly not inclined to believe that was all there was to the story. "If you say so…"

Kevin leaned over the side of his bed, his hair spiking down towards the floor and a solemn expression on his face as he and Harry stared at each other. His eyes narrowed slightly and his voice came out in a cautious whisper. "Shield Charm?"

Harry bit his lip, remembering the window of shifting grey mist and how there had been something _in _it. Kevin was keen, wasn't he? He nodded. Satisfied, the boy swung back up to his own bed soundlessly. The lights dimmed.

"Good night guys."

"Yeah, night."

"Good night everyone."

"Night."

Harry lay in bed for several long minutes, his glasses perched beside his pillow, listening to Ravenclaw tower. The wind was whistling through sadly, all low tones and breathy notes. Wind chimes and paper fans chorused with faint tinkles and rhythmic rustling over the creak of some door that hadn't been shut. Kevin thumped the wall in his sleep and the sounds changed. The notes carried by the wind began to vary, a little louder, a little higher, a little lower. The chimes stopped cascading, bells ringing out one at a time. The door closed. It was a song. No words. Familiar. It lilted, twirled, hovering in between natural and meticulously orchestrated on a fine thread. There was a soft awareness to it, an absent minded melody with no purpose.

Harry sighed quietly. Some notes were too clear to be just the wind, someone was singing a lullaby. He blinked slowly and let it carry him off to sleep.

He woke suddenly.

It was still dark. Terry was snoring away in his bed as he rubbed his eyes, patting around his bed for his glasses and slipping them onto his face. It was quiet. Harry eased out of bed, a faint sense of unease trickling through. The wind had completely stopped, leaving a dead silence. Was that why he awake? He waited, expecting some stray breeze. Nothing. The shadows danced as he stood up, wiggling his toes, silvery light reflecting from everything in the room.

Silvery light.

_Light._

He left the dorm room at a dead run, slipping on a piece of parchment someone had left behind, holding his necklace out in front of him so that he could see. The doors were closed, the couches were empty, for a moment he considered going back to grab his wand as he looked around wildly. Something was coming and he didn't know from _where_- He stopped. Arranged in a semi-circle around the tower, next to the holes that let the wind through were the windows. He swore under his breath.

_The windows._

A large crack ran through the stained glass rendition of a bronze eagle. The train. The thing from the train. He couldn't be _here _in the middle of sleeping people with nowhere to go—

More cracks began to spider through the pane.

_Time to leave boy_

He didn't question the feminine voice, bolting towards the tower exit as the glass exploded, the sound of tinkling shards quickly replaced by scraping stone and running water. The halls were empty as Harry ran down them, trying to think, trying to remember to breathe. Get out of the castle or stay in? A room with no windows or just jam himself into a corner and hope for the best? Crossroads loomed in front of him as his feet slapped the stone desperately. Left or right? Which way to the Great Hall?

He didn't know the castle, he didn't know the castle, what if he ran into a Prefect, _oh_ _god_—

Hands yanked him left harshly. Water. A solid column slashed through the space Harry's head had once been, droplets burning on his skin. A large green eye floated within it. It bulged towards him and his necklace flared in warning.

_Run._

Doors whipped past, he couldn't stop; he would open one just to find out that it was only the wall pretending, glass rained on him from above—

He could hear it, water rushing through a tunnel, a path right—

Shoved hard. He hissed as he scrambled for balance, grabbing onto a suit of armor and feeling it slice into his palm as the wall crumbled with a dull roar, he had lost all feeling in his other hand and he had to look to see if the necklace was still there—sharp relief—_it was _and he could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he begged his legs for just a little more speed—

He was aware that the vague block he just passed was a portrait when it started screaming in terror.

Stairs.

_Bloody hell. Damn. Shite. _

Harry wheeled, he could see it coming, he wouldn't be able to go up fast enough—

Hands pulled him backwards, water viciously crushed the stairs as he sped down the corridor, completely lost. He had been so sure that he had run into an effective dead end before he was—a sharp feeling of loss- his shadow peeled off the wall to run beside him and the light from his necklace seemed to bend around his doppelganger.

"I—I can't," he panted, not entirely sure why he was talking to it save for that it wasn't currently trying to kill him. His legs were on fire. "Help me!"

It shoved him, splashes of color appearing on its hands where it touched him, and he watched as a perfect copy of himself, necklace in hand took off in the other direction as he fell.

Through a wall.

"The bloody he—Potter? This is the third corrid-where the hell did you_ come_ from?"

Harry twitched, staring at the stone wall in front of him in disbelief. His shadow just stole his necklace and pushed him through a wall. His brain spun on an axis. A hand grabbed him and he started violently before the familiarity of the voice trickled in. "I—Alex?"

She stared at him from behind her wand in a hostile stance that made his heartbeat rush through his ears, an urge to take that _stupid magic medium and snap it into pieces—_

Alex's eyes dropped to the floor for a moment, to the walls, before jerking back up to his in alarm. "Potter…you—you don't have a shadow."

He took a deep shuddering breath. Not now, not here. He ducked under her hand when she tried to grab him. "Never mind, look, we have to go—"

Shattering glass.

"We have to _go!_"

He didn't need to look back to see the exact moment that thing dropped into the hallway. It was written all over her face, the way the blood suddenly drained as her eyes went wide and then he was passed her…for a few seconds. She caught up, hand on his collar as he stumbled, pointing her wand at a door at the far end of the hallway.

_"Reducto!" _The door splintered into pieces and she steered them towards the room. Harry took the initiative, throwing himself into the small room. Alex dashed in after him, kicking aside the larger pieces of wood, lifting her wand with sharp gestures. It was coming down the corridor, rushing water the shape of a large mouth and endless teeth, an eye of burning green in the center- _"Affigo Vinculum!"_

Chains burst from the four corners of the wall to meet in the middle with a heavy clank, Alex slammed her hand down on the lock with a pained gasp and Harry threw his arms over his head as if his thin limbs would be able to do anything because he didn't have his _bleeding necklace_—

There was a howl of anger. The castle itself seemed to shake, drips of dust spilling onto him from the ceiling. It raged, the chains clattering together harshly and then it all just stopped.

A minute passed. Then two.

Alex started to make a strange huffing sound and he slowly lowered his arms. They weren't dead. He rolled his thought around in his mind. They weren't dead. For some reason, he had a hard time believing that it was over. His heart was still jackhammering like crazy and he couldn't even feel his legs, but they weren't dead. This didn't feel real. They weren't dead. He opened his mouth, feeling like he should say something, but couldn't think of anything else than this latest mystery.

"We're not dead." Alex snorted and he tiredly realized the sound she had been making was _laughter._

The Fifth Year Slytherin was barely standing and after a few seconds she slumped to her knees giving Harry a clear view of the massive stylized wolf head lock in the middle of the doorway. And of her hand. Impaled on a spike of metal coming from the mouth.

Harry gingerly stood up. His legs were wet noodles and felt just as stable. _They weren't dead. _It was starting to sink in, leaving him worn out and numb. "Are you okay?"

She laughed quietly, turning her head just enough to see him out the corner of her eye. "Do I look okay?" She didn't. Her hand was bleaching into a translucent pale that let him see the blue veins underneath the skin and it was wrinkling. She followed his gaze up and flinched, as if actually seeing the serrated dagger in her palm made the pain real. She tugged and hissed darkly. "Bloody fucking hell that's nasty." Her eye flashed back to him. "You didn't hear any of that."

Harry rolled his eyes as he stood beside her. "You ran your hand through and you're worried about swearing?"

She shook her head roughly. "Right. Sorry. Blood magic rush." She turned back to her hand, standing up slowly and beginning to count. "One. Two." She bounced on her toes. "Three!" She ripped her hand free. Her body went as straight as a board, vibrating. Blood splashed on the floor. "_Ow_."

Harry found himself drawn to the blade. Small pores were opening along the metal, siphoning the blood in. The chains were scrawled with swirling lines that glowed an angry red and when he reached into the gap between, his hand met an invisible barrier. No…he squinted and pushed a finger forward again. Not quite invisible. A light red flare gave it away. "What _is _this?"

Alex was silent for a while. "Dark magic," she said finally, in a tone that suggested she would rather not have said those two words. "Fortress makers and breakers, first time I've used it." She eyed him warily. "If anyone asks you, part of the incantation was 'contego' and something else you don't remember."

Harry looked at her. She didn't meet his eyes. "Okay."

She sighed, holding her punctured hand close. "Thank you, Potter." She turned and stopped dead. Her good hand reached out blindly for him. "Potter…"

Three shadows occupied the back wall. It looked like a bizarre silhouette family, a mom and dad and Harry's smaller image in between them with his necklace hanging carelessly around its neck. His shadow walked forwards out of the wall until it was standing before him. It took off his necklace and held it out.

_This belongs to you_ a sultry female voice stated impassively, as if ownership could change at any moment.

Harry grabbed it possessively. "Thank you." His shadow slipped back into two dimensions and it felt like a piece of him had returned. "You helped me?"

_Yes_ a deep masculine voice grunted.

_It was not enough for a Debt_ his partner sighed.

"Thank you very much," Harry said sincerely. He snuck a glance at his sickle pendant. Not glowing. That was…good. The relief was a cool drink of water and his knees trembled with the sudden desire to sit down and sleep for years. Safe. "I don't know how to repay you."

The shadows stilled. _You would acknowledge a Debt_ they questioned together.

Alex yanked on him. "Potter, do you know what they are?" Her voice was tense.

Harry had to pause. Aside from their appearance as independent shadows? "Never seen them before."

Her fingernails dug into his shoulder. "They just admitted to trying to bind you into a Debt, you just _don't _agree—erk!" One poisonous yellow eye snapped opened on each of them, left and right, a mirror image. Alex collapsed, clawing at her head as if she was trying to dig something out. Blood started to trickle from her nose.

"Hey! Stop hurting her!" A heart stopping moment where his necklace flared with a sudden light when those eyes shifted to him.

_Of course_

The eyes closed. The light faded. He shivered. He was locked in a room with a pair of shadows that turned hostile on a whim. His necklace protected him- it wasn't like the train, but maybe it was because the other boys had been literally on top of him. He shifted closer to the prefect. "Please don't," his voice caught in his throat and his legs gave way, plopping him right next to the girl. "Please don't hurt us."

_We apologize_

Alex stiffened and drew her legs together. Her shadow quivered. Alarm flooded through him. "What's wrong?"

She let out a moan that actually made him feel kind of uncomfortable. "Make them stop. Now."

The shadows bobbed and shrunk a little, giving the impression that they 'stepped' back.

_It was not pain_

"That's the problem," she gritted out with clenched teeth. Then she remembered the last time she irritated them and pressed her lips together tightly. This time only the female spoke, simultaneously exasperated and amused, a dark arm making a dismissing gesture.

_This Side is confusing_

"What _are _you?" Harry blinked. That was his voice, he hadn't meant to…oh well. The female half lovingly embraced her counterpart and he spun her around playfully.

_Every desire ever conceived _and then _ruu'sghu fthxi ia a'a hrutgh fta fthfthg gri'a_

They gave the impression of studying him. The male held the female closer, head tilted down and Harry got the strange impression that it was frowning.

_You do not understand _

They looked at each other.

_Others_

_We will find them_

The shadows scattered. Petals riding a sharp gust of wind.

Harry sagged tiredly. Alex pulled him to her and he could feel her shaking. "It was just a patrol," she whispered brokenly. "Just walk down the halls and make sure no one is out after curfew. _That's all._" Harry kept quiet. The shadows had helped him but he was sure it had also _led_ him. Her shirt was warm and wet and smelled faintly like copper. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Shite. Too long, held it for too _damn long."_ She shifted painfully and blinked tears away. "_Bloody hell."_

"I'm so—"

"_Don't!"_ He flinched. "Don't you bloody _dare_ apologize." They sat in the tiny room. Alex was shaking like a leaf. "Does your mother know?"

Harry had to pull his legs in with his hands. There was a flash of pain and he stared at the long cut in his palm. When had that happened? "I don't know." Thana's letter. Weird stuff. That day in Diagon Alley when they were in that void between spaces. "Maybe."

"Maybe," she repeated. "_Maybe._" She made a frustrated noise in her throat. "I'm going to avoid you for the rest of year."

Harry didn't blame her."Okay."

"No!" She burst out, three times as emotive as she usually was. "It's not okay! I'm bloody _terrified. _What the hell was after you? What was in _here?_ You're going to be _dead _before the month is out from…from _monsters_. _I'm _going to be-" She cut herself off with a growl. Her nails were digging into him again. "That's _not _okay."

Harry thought about telling her that he couldn't die but not only would that seem _impossible_ to anyone that hadn't been there -again, with the tree-but it wasn't a very good defense at all. It just meant he'd hurt for much longer. "My necklace glows, you know," he said absently. "When I'm in danger from…yeah."

"It what?" She looked down at him. Her eyes shifted to the jewelry. Then it snapped back to his face. "The train was _you?_" Wow, she put that together quick. He must have looked guilty because her lips pursed. The blood trail from her nose stood out on her pale skin sharply. Pale. Squiggly veins were showing up around her temples, little splotches like bruises along them.

"I'm sorry."

She hummed and looked away from him. And tensed. Faintly, there was the sound of rushing water.

Harry glanced towards the door. "H-how long is that going to last?"

Alex looked over. Her eyes traced each chain before lingering on the pristine spike jutting out from the lock. Something in her face sharpened but when she looked down at him, it melted away. "I said I'd look out for you, right?" She murmured. "It'll hold." She gave him a one armed hug. "Try to sleep? I'll make sure it can't get in."

Her wand was where she left it by the door. "I can get your wand for you?"

"I can get at it myself." Her lips made an aborted attempt at smiling. "You're a good kid, Harry. You don't deserve this shite." She leaned back and pressed her injured hand harder into her stomach. "You really don't." She snorted. "No one does."

She didn't say anything else.

It rammed into the door periodically as they sat in that small room, listening to the sound of scraping stone and water through a tunnel. It snarled, spit and thundered. Sometimes it sung. Alex would suck in a harsh breath and whimper—press herself into the wall as if she was trying to melt into it whenever it did. To Harry's ears, it was like it was singing underwater; the words were reflected and bounced around until they were just vague noises.

His necklace glowed softly every time it came.

The door held.

And he was so tired. "Sleep," Alex told him. So he did.

Harry woke with wet sleepwear, dead lumps attached to his hips, a sore hand, and a painful crick in the neck. He was propped up in a corner with a black robe thrown over him, the Hogwarts crest displayed proudly and silver lining the edges. And she had kept her word. Alexandria Blackguard was crumpled in the middle of the room. The door was outlined in crusting, brown designs. Her hands had matching wounds ripping through the middle and her white shirt was almost entirely a dark crimson.

He scrambled over to her, his legs were screaming in agony, and reached out with a shaking hand to touch her, to shake her awake. She was cold. Her eyes stared out the doorway blankly. The small blood vessels in them had burst.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, _no."_ This couldn't be happening. They were _safe! _They weren't _dead_, they were supposed to be _safe_. The professors would find them and everything would have been _fine!_ "No! You can't!" Was she breathing? She wasn't breathing—maybe, he couldn't tell, his hands were too numb, but she wasn't _moving_ and she was cold and _this wasn't happening!_

A dim memory of a little girl in an alley, footsie pajamas with red rabbits wiggled loose. Golden curls and dogs. Warm laughter. The rabbits hopped around in neat little circles in plains of white grass, twitched their ears, wiggled their little noses. And then one of them _exploded—_

"I won't—" Harry screamed. "You can't go! _I won't let you!"_

His necklace sparked, flared, glowed.

And shone like the sun.

* * *

A girl sat by the large bay window in her room, up with the sun as always and breathed onto the pane. The glass itself seemed to freeze, thin lines skittering across with faint crackles and frosting into snowflake patterns as the sunlight filtered through. A shattered rainbow filtered onto the polished wood floor. Her eyes flickered over her handiwork, a brilliant blue and smiled happily.

"Maybe just—" She stopped as a full body shudder ripped through her, droplets of pure black seeping into her irises. She could feel something in her well up and bubble. Excitement. Amusement. Conflict. "He's fighting you for a soul," she stated flatly and then gasped in pain. "No! I'm not going—" The window shattered. "Son of a—_damn it Harry!"_

* * *

Dudley Dursely woke from a pleasant dream in his dorm room at Dauntsey's to an odd sight. The window directly across from him.

Proudly sporting a large, jagged crack.

* * *

_And then Death asked the third and youngest brother for his wish. The youngest was more humble than his two elder brothers; the wisest and he did not trust Death. He asked for something that would enable him to leave that place and escape Death's presence. And Death, unwillingly, gave the youngest brother its very own Cloak._


	8. Memory

**_Deathly Hallowed_**

A/N: Not happy with this chapter but my attempts to fix it ram against writer's block so I'm just going to put this out here. It will probably have to be redone much later, but for now...

_A woman wakes with a headache. Blood from her nose, her eyes strain. She had a dream. She seeks painkillers in the bathroom. Her shadow creeps on the wall tiles. The stain forms a face. She hears a terrible wail from the sink drain. She bends to listen. When she looks up, her reflection does not recognize her. Night after night she listens. She hums along. She can almost sing the words. She turns away from the face in the stain. Night after night it calls to her._

_She lies in bed and ignores it. She tries to sleep. The mirror cracks. An unending cycle. It calls._

_Until she answers._

* * *

Lily's wand has a unicorn hair core.

This is important.

Because she knows she's slipping.

It didn't happen like one would expect it would; a tale of sliding morality and necessary evils where it starts with the small things. The small sacrifices, turning a blind eye, the rationalization, the justification that the world was not _good_ and it was not _nice _and that sometimes you had to fight tooth and nail for what you believed in. A story where Lily slowly became disillusioned with useless victories and temporary respite as she lost friends and family. Moral superiority doesn't mean much when you're dead, Sirius would say.

It didn't happen like that.

Lily would say moral superiority doesn't mean much when your _unborn child _is on the line. It happened all at once, really. The line between morally acceptable and not didn't fade. It disappeared. James came home, crowing and generally being an adult child, laughing in the living room.

"We did it, Lily! They never knew what hit 'em!" His head bobbed back and forth and she knew he was strutting. She tried to suppress the nervous laughter.

"Is everyone alright? It took a bit longer than I thought it would."

James grinned at her before ducking under his Cloak and vanishing entirely. She could hear his footsteps and leaned against him when he wrapped his arms around her, drumming his fingers on her stomach. "They didn't even see us," he promised and kissed her lightly. "And Sirius smells like a wet dog. _All _the time, I swear."

She laughed. To chase away her fears and his. James had the habit of falling back on lame Sirius jokes when he was worried. They were all fine, but she wouldn't be surprised to hear that there had been a close call or two. A stray thought. "This war would be safer for everyone if we all had cloaks like yours."

He sighed. "One of a kind, unfortunately."

"I could take a look at it." She looked up into the blank space she thought his face was in. "I need to occupy myself."

"You and your projects," he teased and she swatted him. "Have I ever told you how amazing you are?"

"Oh," she stretched in his arms. "I'm sure I could stand to hear it again."

"You're amazing." He took off the Cloak and handed it to her, a symbol on the inner layer catching the light oddly. A circle within a triangle, split in half with a line. It tugged on her brain.

"How long was this in your family again?" She frowned slightly as she ran a hand over the fabric. It certainly didn't feel like fur and at some level, she didn't expect it to. Demiguise cloaks blurred the form into the background; it didn't make one completely invisible. And there was just something…_otherworldly _about the flowing silver material. It dripped like a solid liquid through her fingers.

"Generations upon generations." He always looked a bit uncomfortable talking about just how old the Potters were, insistent that it didn't matter. "Father to son, you know." He perked up. "Which means it falls to me to ensure little Harry has the pranking advantage!"

"Could be a girl," she said mildly with a small smile.

James waved that off. "Rules are made to be broken!"

She should have seen that coming. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the Cloak. Generations. Disillusionment charms were lucky to last hours. And there were no rune marks, just that symbol. Her eyes narrowed. She could swear she saw it before somewhere but _where _eluded her. Well, Charms _was _her expertise and it was for a worthy cause. Perhaps it wasn't that important.

It was.

One Two punch.

The Tale of Three Brothers had a kernel of truth in it. James Potter had the Cloak of Invisibility. What _else _was true?

The prophecy. The Potters or the Longbottoms. In the space of one shocked breath—_he _would be coming for their _children_—and a skipped heartbeat—_either must die at the hands of the other_—something in Lily Potter died. Days were spent in a confused blur. What were they going to do?

_What was she going to do?_

Not Harry.

Anything but that.

Perhaps if James hadn't taken to using the Cloak more often, was more cautious with who saw him where, she wouldn't have been reminded of her failed attempts at replication. And the discovery she made about its nature. Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

Her first attempt uses a Death Eater and it wasn't until the runic array activated did Lily realize that it was really _using _him. Have you ever seen a human being bleed every drop they had through their pores? Lily has. Vicious bruises dot the screaming body as it slowly collapses in on itself, the skin tears and the thrashing shreds muscle from bone. She was just glad it had taken his voice and sight first. Looking her friends in the eye afterwards wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. She didn't dwell on that thought.

Not Harry.

It was all that mattered.

Lily's wand has a unicorn hair core.

This is important.

The wand chooses the wizard. The most compatible, their temperaments match. Unicorn hair wands are the hardest to turn to the Dark Arts, a lingering property of the unicorn as a pure creature and Lily's wand has turned years ago. Unicorn hair wands are consistent and faithful, reliable much like their owners; through thick and thin, just as responsive and eager to please as the day it chose its wizard.

And that's how she knows she's slipping.

Her wand struggles with the simplest spells. Her beloved Charms cancel well before they actually should, she doesn't even try transfiguration. Her curses are tinged with a malice she doesn't want to believe she has, her hexes viciously bite and her jinxes always have just a bit too much power. Unicorn hair wands are known to 'die' with their owner, she isn't sure it's even possible to just _lose _the loyalty of a wand like that.

And yet.

_Willow, 10 ¼ inch, swishy. Still a good fit?_

_It'll do. _

She puts it out of her mind. It hasn't backfired, it's not broken. She hasn't really _needed _her wand for quite some time. It'll do.

Won't it?

Lily's wand has a unicorn hair core.

"Sugar quills."

"Come in, Mrs. Potter."

_This is important._

"How—How bad is it? Is Harry—"

Fawkes bursts into the Headmaster's office with a bright red and orange flare of fire and light bellowing in fury and _challenge. _The phoenix song isn't curious now, nor is it soothing or uplifting. It **burns**_**.**_It reaches right into her head and rips out the melody she's been hearing for ten years with fire, _inverts _it and shoves it back, warbling pain of _intruder _and _enemy_ and _danger. _She can't think straight because all she sees is phoenix fire, all she feels is pain and for a blinding moment all she wants to do is _get rid of that __**noise—**_

Her wand flies out of her hand. Albus Dumbledore catches it. She falls into an arm chair as the bird falls silent and looks towards the window almost expectantly.

Nothing.

Her blood runs cold.

When had she gotten so complacent, so comfortable being Death's little pet?

Dumbledore's face gives nothing away as he holds her willow and unicorn hair wand. It has snapped. He doesn't seem to notice as he places it on the desk in front of him, next to another wand. There is a long moment of silence.

She doesn't know how to apologize. The bottom drops from her stomach when she begins to wonder if she even _should. _Her head feels full and empty at once. The notes are jumbled but the song hasn't stopped. But it is quieter. A curious hum with occasional static. A black signal through a broken radio.

She sighs and sinks into the chair.

Phoenixes. Life and death as a cycle, a revolving door.

She could laugh. She doesn't.

"I was informed by Ollivander that this wand has chosen you." His eyes bore into her and she looks away. If he wasn't going to talk about it, then neither was she. The bird was glaring at her and she felt petty enough to glare back.

"What is it?" Her throat is dry.

"Holly and phoenix feather." He laces his hands together on the desk and there is another oppressive silence that stretches out and tugs on her nerves.

"Is Harry alright?" She blurts out.

He looks at her and when he spoke, a soft velvet edge curls around his words. "I am more concerned with _three _of my prefects, Mrs. Potter. In fact," He stood up. "Let's go see them now, shall we? I'm sure they would appreciate the company. Do come along." He waits by the door as a flickering flame in wizard robes. Shifting continuously behind half-moon spectacles, ready to burn.

"But—"

_"Come."_

Lily shut her mouth with a click.

The castle thrums as they walk down its corridors. The doors open and close like it was blinking; the stairs shuffle back and forth and windows form and break apart in the ceiling. Dumbledore says nothing as she looks around unsure of why the old fortress is acting up and she doesn't ask. The few portraits she passes are twitchy, some babble helplessly. One door juts out of the wall and simply shudders. One step passed it and she realizes what is going on.

Her home of seven years is in pain.

She swallows the familiar acidic taste of guilt as they step into the hospital wing. Someone is crying.

"Ms. Clearwater," Dumbledore says softly and the sound turns in hiccupping sniffles. "I thought you would be resting."

"I—I'm sorry, it's just, I can't stop _seeing_…"

"Don't try to stop," Lily finds herself saying. The girl is rumpled, a livid bruise dominating her left cheekbone and a nervous twitch flexing two of the fingers on her visible hand. "It's easier if you don't fight it."

The girl gives her a wide eyed stare of recognition and Lily think that perhaps the bruise stands out so much is because she is already pale. She wonders if Pomfrey tried to give the girl Calming Draughts and Dreamless Sleeps and almost grimaces.

Those don't work.

She would see what it shows her. No more, no less.

Dumbledore gives her a small nod. "This is Lily Potter. Mrs. Potter, this is the fifth year Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater." He turned, gesturing to other cubicles in the wing. "Seventh year Hufflepuff Edward Higgins and fifth year Slytherin Alexandria Blackguard."

"The door is opening," Penelope tells her insistently. "And—and _things _come from behind it—"

"I know."

The Ravenclaw doesn't seem to know what to do with that revelation, hands creeping up to her temples as she shudders. "I'm scared."

"Try to get some rest, Ms. Clearwater. Don't fight it." That's terrible advice. That's the only advice she has. There is nothing else to say.

Her gut clenches as she steps past them with a broken smile.

Edward Higgins is a dirty blond young man with the bulky physique of a Quidditch Beater and for a moment, she wonders if that is what he is. He's murmuring under his breath and she doesn't listen. A sheen of sweat is on his forehead as he squirms in his bed and her eyes are drawn to what is left of his wand arm.

He's missing the lower half of it.

The first thing that comes to her mind is 'I can fix that.' And she probably can, probably with a finger from the other arm and blood replenishing potions and a bit of bone, the ease with which she turns to Dark magic as a solution doesn't scare her.

Should it?

It looks like the arm has been cauterized with something other than heat, but burned all the same. Acid. She reaches out to touch the wound and her hand stops a few millimeters short. Something in her head uncramps. Beneath her fingers, Edward gasps as his arm _wriggles. _The wound sweats a clear liquid that eats into the bed. Slowly, she lifts her head to scan the innocuous row of windows lining the hospital wing, searching for the lightest shadow, the smallest break.

Ah, she thinks. That's not good.

"Headmaster, may I borrow you for a moment?" He wastes no time in coming to her side. "I need you to touch his injured arm for me, please." He does not use his wand arm and for a moment, she finds that odd. Only for a moment. She's too busy feeling stupidly grateful for the minor show of trust in not asking her why.

The arm doesn't react to him. "Thank you." She hesitates, but plows on. "I believe you still have unwanted guests in your school."

"Truly?" His voice is tired. "Do inform them that they will not be tolerated, will you my dear?"

His calm acceptance completely derails what Lily was about to say. "I—I will, yes, of course." She bites her lip. "I think the phoenix can help him. I think."

He nods. "I will inform Poppy."

She nods back and heads to the last pair of beds. As soon as she cleared the curtains, her hands flew to her mouth in dismay. "Oh, Alexandria," she breathes. Her feet stick to the floor.

Lysander Blackguard's daughter is deathly pale. Dark blue, almost black, veins scrawl across her face, dark bruises leak from them to create an interlocking web and her _hands…_Lily's eyes flutter closed. "Is she…?"

"Her heart does not beat." Lily frowns. That was a rather odd way to answer a yes or no question. "Observe."

Reluctantly, she opens her eyes. The lack of a heart beat explains why the ravaged hands weren't bandaged, ragged holes, dead tissue and old blood. Dumbledore pulls back the curtains on another bed and to her infinite relief, Harry just has a small bandage on his hand.

She watches the two for a few minutes. "She's breathing." At the same time as Harry was. Synchronized.

"I believe he is breathing for her. There is no telling when or if he will stop."

"Or why," she comments lightly, forcing her legs to carry her to Harry's bed side. She viciously beats down the urge to take him and run, restraining herself to just watching him sleep, safe and sound. Dumbledore sits in a small chair she hadn't noticed with a small sigh. "You are calm about this."

"Oh?" He chuckles quietly. "I'm actually quite terrified, I assure you. Ah, but fear. Fear is an opponent I know how to counter."

"I did not think they would follow him," she admits quietly. "_Eventually_, yes." She snorts. "Not a few days after—" She sighs. "It all went horribly _right._ And now I don't know what to do."

Dumbledore is quiet for a long moment.

"If I understand my literature, you act as an anchor of sorts. You draw them in."

"I'm more of a broken window," Lily spits out bitterly. "My life keeps it open."

"I see." He leans back into his chair thoughtfully before posing the obvious question. "I assume that is where you have difficulties?"

She almost wishes the assumption that she would try to find ways to die wasn't true.

"It won't let me," she whispers. Her fingers make sad patterns in the bed sheets. "I've tried. Others. Myself. It doesn't matter. I can't." She hunches forward, curling into herself. "It was only supposed to be _Harry._ Oh!" She suddenly laughs with a faint hysterical edge. "And it gets better! The time with Macnair stuck. I owe it a Life Debt."

Another broken smile.

"My own magic is punishing me for trying to hold them back."

"I didn't realize that would even be possible," Dumbledore says slowly.

"Surprised me too." On a whim she grabs onto her son's hand and it's colder than it should be. She douses the first flare of panic. Death would not take him. She crushes the second flare. Thana would protect him. She looks up curiously. "Literature?"

Dumbledore smiles sadly. "Legacy of a misspent youth," he says with a hint of wryness. "You took a great risk, you realize. A terrible risk."

"What was I supposed to do?" She hisses back. "Hope he chose the Longbottoms? Lie down and die?"

He raises an incredulous eyebrow. "So instead you sought to break a prophecy in response?"

"Fate doesn't think." She brushes off his disapproval and is inwardly dismayed at how easy it seems to be. "It doesn't adapt."

Dumbledore has the look of a father watching his children walk away from him, who doesn't yet know if he will reach out for them, or let them continue going on their way. "What do you intend to do?"

"First?" She stands and gently drops her son's hand. "Get rid of your unwanted guests."

She barely leaves the hospital wing before she has to stop and check her pockets. The sudden feeling of forgetfulness, as if she had left her wand or something just as important behind, makes her stiffen. Her shadow squirms and twists free from her feet, dancing a few steps down the hall before stopping. Lily takes a step forward. It mimics her, backwards.

She can't help the almost amused smile. "You want me to follow you, don't you?"

It's head splits from the top down, two rows of serrated teeth separate into a grotesque vertical smile.

_Hhrus' fthfth a'a xi hrthgth a'ri'hr asth'i _

"I see." She takes another step forward. "Show me."

* * *

Cold.

It was cold.

The first thing Harry noticed was that he was freezing almost to the point of being numb, a dull ache spreading out from his joints and the tiny clinking of ice on his clothes. He was being carried, his arms slung around someone's neck as his feet dragged on the ground but he honestly couldn't tell if his toes were running through sand or razor blades. Wind was blowing, he thought, but he couldn't tell from where, carrying the sound of distant screams and sighs. He tried to make a noise, or move but he just…couldn't….

He thought he fell asleep, because the next time he was aware, a familiar voice was talking.

"—after a soul was a _hilariously _bad idea, I can't even fucking tell you how bad, you are so fucking _lucky _Death likes your sorry arse because it usually doesn't like _anyone, _not that I blame it, most humans are irritating, bitchy cock sucking _cunt rags_—"

"Language," Harry choked in surprise and his lips were too numb for him to tell if it came out. Some of it must have, because there was a sensation of falling, and then he was on the ground with his right arm caught on something.

"—and of _course _you choose _now_ to wake up! Do you know whose arse I just got done putting my foot in?" Harry thought it was safer not to say anything, having no idea what was going on and apparently his silence was enough of an answer. "_Neither do I!_" It—she—howled. "But it was _ugly _and it was _everywhere a_nd I'm not even sure I _want _to know what it was!"

His arm dropped along with a sound of rustling, and Harry realized that he had some kind of leash around his wrist. He tried to summon the strength to move, but the cold sapped it away. He wanted to at least open his eyes, to see where he was, who was talking to him in a voice he swore he knew.

"Yeah, don't do that." A pressure against his eyelids. "I took as much out of you as I could, don't ruin it." A pause. "Or I'll get mad."

That clicked. _"Thana?"_ And then, illogically, his brain latched onto another topic. "When did you swear like that?"

"Look, I've been here _forever _saving you. The _least _you could have done was let me rant in peace."

Harry thought about this. "I'll give you my Circe chocolate frog card."

"Add Lily Potter then we're even." She picked him up with a lot more ease than Harry thought was possible for her, slinging him across her back and clasping his leashed hand with her own. He could only feel the pressure; she was as cold as he was. He crushed the urge to open his eyes, to see if she was as healthy as she sounded. "Go back to sleep, alright? We're almost out."

He laid his head against the back of hers, feeling his toes drag on the ground as she started moving again. He attempted to sleep, but everything hurt and the faint sound of screaming was less than helpful.

"I can't," he told her pathetically.

He could feel her tilt her head a little and heard her start to hum. The wind picked the tune up and it resonated. He's heard the song before. He relaxed. Hummed a few bars along with her. And let it carry him off to—

He woke up leaning against something hard with something draped over his head. The memories were slow to come back. Cold. Wind. _Thana. _

"Thana?" He called out cautiously. Nothing. He bit his tongue. He was still numb and likely still couldn't move not to mention not being able to see. There was nothing to gain by panicking. He knew this.

That didn't stop him from biting his tongue so hard that he tasted blood. A bloodcurdling scream broke out to his right full of pain and horror and his whole body jerked in a failed movement attempt. It _sounded _like her. That was her voice.

"_Thana!" _He roared. Rustling. Rocks falling. That wasn't the right name. He was here for someone else. And she was screaming. He yelled out the only name he knew and the scream changed to a word: Harry. He called back, feeling his heart try to pump more blood to his legs but it wasn't working because he was still too cold to move, she was _calling_ for him—

The scream choked. His heart stopped.

_"THANA!"_

"I'm here, stop yelling!" He felt her grab his hand, just the pressure of four fingers and the slight dull pain of her thumb digging into his skin and it was the best thing he had ever felt in his life. "I'd rather not have to fight something else for you, you know?"

"You were screaming. I heard you screaming, why were you screaming?" He babbled, trying to wrap his mind around it. "I thought…"

"That wasn't me," she said shortly, messing with something around their hands. She hesitated, and he heard her take a few steps to the right, before changing her mind and walking back. "How does your head feel?"

Cold was his first thought. Then fuzzy. There was a leaking cotton ball feeling that he usually associated with being sick and he felt like he was wearing a skull cap of ice. "Full," he answered slowly. "Like my brain is going to dribble out of my ears."

Fingers. Rummaging through his head like it was a messy closet and grasping onto something that _squirmed_ against his skull and ruthlessly crushed it, before withdrawing.

"How about now?"

"What did you _do?"_ Alarm rang like a crystal bell in his voice.

"Helping," was all she said before picking him up again. "It…did, right? Help, I mean."

Harry wanted to argue—she didn't even try to deny that she did something and he was sure reaching into peoples head and _killing _something was impossible—but at the same time, he really didn't. He didn't want to know what was in his head, how she could get rid of it. An almost soul crushing need for sleep washed over him.

"Harry?"

"It's emptier," he admitted quietly, shaking himself awake. She started walking. "Where are we?"

It took Thana several minutes to answer. "Tartarus."

"Why are we here?"

"_You _did something stupid." She sounded a bit irritated. "Next time, stay home and just ask politely."

Her shoulders rolled and Harry remembered that he was still wearing something of hers over his head. He was cold to the point of hearing his skin _crack _with ice and she was carrying him as dead weight without even sounding tired.

"What are you?"

"A fragment." Bitterness overflowed those two words. She hoisted him higher. "You hear that?" Harry strained his ears. The sighing wind was ever present but underneath it, just faintly, was the sound of running water. He tensed from some nebulous fear he couldn't put a name to.

Thana's pace picked up. "That's the river!"

He clung to her with what little strength he had. Every time she came close to dislodging him, she slowed and readjusted his weight gently. The sounds of water got louder until it practically roared into his face, spray on his hands.

"We're taking _the bridge_," she spat in disgust. He felt the slight incline, felt her stop. "Can you stand you think?" She helped him put his feet under him as he leaned on her heavily. His knees creaked, thighs trembled but he stood. It took everything out of him, but he did it. She tugged the cloth off his face. "You can open your eyes now."

He cracked one eye and the other flew open in horrified surprise.

Thana was a patchwork quilt made out of body parts. Seams separated her features out, her chin, ears, nose, running across her hair line and worse, _she was missing parts. _A piece had been gouged out of her cheek and Harry could see bleeding gums and teeth through the ragged hole, one of her eyes was damaged by the way blood leaked out from under her eyelid, one of her ears was simply gone. What looked like a cast iron grill cage held a weakly beating heart, dirty brown string futilely tried to hold a gaping hole in her side closed.

"You…" His throat shut on his words.

"I don't look great, I know." He winced. That was probably the largest understatement he had ever heard. She gave him a sloppy grin that pulled at the hole in her cheek. "You should have seen the other guy! This place? Not a good vacation spot."

"Doesn't it hurt?" He ventured and got a careless shrug in response.

"Too cold. Look at yourself." He didn't want to see how mangled he was, the injuries only the vicious cold kept him from feeling and from the way the look in her eye softened, she didn't blame him. "Sorry."

He shook his head, managing only a minute creak from one side to the other. He swayed a bit and Thana catches him just as he notices that he didn't try to catch himself. "You got me out, right? Don't apologize for that."

_'Don't you bloody dare apologize.'_

Stone walls and chains. Shadows. Light. The memory was a starburst of fractured sound and sight before subsiding.

Thana was watching him warily, lips pressed together tightly. "You're kind of stubborn. I bet if I said her name right now, you'd remember."

His head felt full. "What?"

She tilted her head away revealing another seam that followed the edges of her skull, sweeping her eye across his face. "Ask nicely next time," she said instead. "Remember that, ok?"

He nodded slowly. "Are the lines injuries too?" He looked down at the grate in her chest but the question about that died before it left his mouth.

She faltered. "Not...exactly."

A patchwork quilt of body parts. Harry felt sick. "Keeping you together?"

"Yes." Thana slumped before saying miserably, "It was kind of necessary, I was falling apart—"

"But…_why?"_

Silence.

Thana looked down into the river. There was the oppressive feeling of _trust, regret, resignation _hanging around them.

"Because this is not mine." She gestured towards herself. "Not…not all of it, anyway."

"Then whose is it?" Harry asked quietly.

"I don't know." She took a deep breath, the iron grid pulling apart slightly with the movement. "Lily wouldn't tell me."

"You're lying," He said immediately. The flash of hurt on Thana's face made him feel ashamed, guilty, _angry. _"You have to be. You're lying, mum is a good person, she wouldn't _do that!_" His fingers and toes tingled. "Tell me the truth."

"I'm not—"

_"Tell me the truth!"_

His shout echoed on the wind. The two children stared at each other. A black river roared beneath the obsidian bridge.

"February 17th, 1985." Her voice was almost too soft to hear. "You were passed into the care of your aunt, Petunia Dursely. Do you want to know why? I can tell you."

Harry said nothing.

"A few weeks earlier, she had a ranting fit and shattered every window in the house. In the dead of winter. And she didn't notice." Thana's sole eye was fixed at a point just above his left shoulder. "To her, the house was on fire. Too hot. And _things _were talking to her, you know. She'd be distracted for hours. Days if she couldn't snap out of it."

He still didn't say anything.

"She almost _killed us_, Harry. She's my godmother and I _don't live with her. _I know you've wondered. How she would treat you like you're going to disappear, like she can't believe she's been allowed to _see _you." Thana crossed her arms, looking away into the water uncomfortably. "I'm not saying she isn't a good person. She's just…broken, a bit. And broken people _would._"

The river continued to surge past.

"What broke her?"

"She thought you were going to die."

Harry searched her face, cringing slightly at the wounds but looking for the slightest sign of deception. She met his gaze evenly. Thana always wore her heart on her sleeve. And if he knew her at all…

"I believe you."

Her lips quirked into that half-smile of hers. "Gee, thanks." She reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Are you ready to go?"

He looked past her. It was a beach of rolling black sand leading up into crags of cracked and broken obsidian, the sky was full of stars. A single gnarled tree hunched over the start of the bridge, one of the thin branches had been snapped off. He was tapped on the nose.

"Hello?"

"Yes." He thought he managed the smile, his cheeks tingling with returning feeling. "I'm ready. Are you going to be alright?"

Her eyebrows drew together, even as she laughed it off. "It's like you and your cards, I was _made _for this." She smiled at him. "Don't worry about me."

Thana pushed him. He fell backwards off the edge of the world, looking up into a black arch, black sand, black river, a sky full of stars and the sight of a black haired girl waving at him in good bye.

Silver light.

Warm.

It was warm.

Someone was running fingers through his short hair, he was lying on his back in a bed with the sheets tucked under his arms and he could _feel. _He could feel the threads of the fabric; the temperature difference between his legs and bare feet, his hand was wrapped. He sighed.

"Harry?" The fingers stopped and relocated to his shoulder. "Are you awake, sweetheart?"

"Mum?" One side of the bed lifted. "Is that you?"

"I'm here."

He almost relaxed. Part of him just wanted to go back to sleep—biting cold, wind—while the rest was trying to figure out why she was there. Wasn't he still at Hogwarts? He had class and homework and what was she doing there? He sank into his pillow tiredly. There really wasn't anything to complain about, was there?

Something felt, maybe, just a bit wrong.

Was this his dorm room?

"Where are we?" His words echoed back into his head.

_Where are we?_

A bubble in his head popped. The scarred memories began to bleed. And it all came roaring back.

_"Alex!"_

The bed on the other side of the room is covered with a white sheet, he doesn't have to ask, he _knows _just as a fine, tenuous link snaps somewhere in his chest and an alarm rings. How had—he had, he had gone after her, he _had _her, she had been _right there!_ His mother moved in front of him, cutting off his line of sight, hands holding him down and he struggles because he's trying to figure out how he's _here _and not _there_. In the middle of a maze of obsidian and sheer cliffs and shadows—

How could he have just _left her behind?_

He'd lost her somewhere.

Somewhere cold. He had fallen asleep.

And then he forgot.

Thana had been there, he remembered faintly. And he froze in the bed, eyes wide. Thana was there and he had forgotten.

Forgotten.

She had been screaming for him and Thana _knew he forgot._

A black feeling with scales, fire and claws thrashed in his stomach. The more he tried to hold it back, the hotter it burned. He was vaguely aware of the hands holding him pulling back sharply, the sound of shattering glass.

_"—accidental magic."_

_"He's not listening to anything I'm saying!"_

She knew. She knew. She _knew. She knew, she knew, she knew, he was going to __**kill her**_—

He had to go back.

He grabbed at one of the larger glass shards on his bed, an adult hand fell on his and stopped him from picking it up. He lifted his eyes and saw his mother flinch away.

"I have to _go back."_ He rasped. "I have to—"

"You do not _have _to do anything, Harry." Lily said softly, gently prying his bleeding fingers from the glass. "It's not your fault."

The heat simmered and flushed into his blood. Questions on the floor of a tiny room.

"No," he murmured, hating himself even as he said it. "It's _yours."_

"Yes it is," his mother admitted easily and Harry thought he hated _her_ a little for that. "And some mistakes are impossible to fix." He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear it! He shut his eyes as if that would stop her from continuing, a strangled cry welling up in his throat. "She's gone, Harry."

Lily gathered him up in a fierce hug and he couldn't hold it back anymore.

"I _had her!"_ He bawled into her robes. "_She was right there!"_

"I know, sweetheart. I know." She rocked him, hands rubbing large circles into his back as tears streamed down his face. "I know."

Lily let him cry himself out. He was given potions, the glass was cleared. They asked questions about what happened after he woke up in the middle of the night with his necklace glowing. They asked questions about _after. _He answered some of them. Others were harder.

_Do you know how you got there?_

_No._

_You grabbed glass, Harry. What did you think you were going to do?_

_I don't know._

_Will you say goodbye?_

Harry swallowed painfully as he turned his head so that he could see, just out of the corner of his eye, the covered body. Say good bye?

_He __had__ her._

He shook his head. "Not yet."

Lily whispered something to the headmaster who in turn looked a bit disgruntled but nodded. "Go to sleep, Harry. Perhaps it will all look better tomorrow."

He doubted it.

Alex was dead.

There was no 'better.' There would never be.

* * *

"How much longer are you going to be in here?"

Harry glanced up from his parchment. "Until I get better, I guess. Pomfrey says my fever broke last night so it can't be too much longer."

"Well, I for one am jealous that you get to miss class."

He and Neville sighed. "Theo."

"I'm just saying!" The Slytherin leaned back in his chair. "Not that it's slowing you down any…"

"I had the wizard flu before and it was awful." Neville nibbled on the end of a sugar quill he had nabbed from Harry's small pile of gifted sweets. "The fever will be back and then it will get _really _bad."

"It was bad enough last night." Harry fought down a cough and scribbled a few more lines to his essay. "I sicked up all over my bed and everything."

Theo made a face. "Thank you for that lovely image."

Harry grinned at him unapologetically even as his stomach twinged. He'd woken up this morning with a taste in his mouth like something fuzzy had died on his tongue and an incessant urge to vomit. His eyes were all crusty and his face sore, and every muscle–especially his legs—_ached. _If Neville was right about it getting worse, he really wasn't looking forward to it.

"Hey." The Gryffindor jerked his head towards the empty bed on the other side of the room. "Is Blackguard going to be alright?"

"I don't know," Harry said honestly. "She was even worse than me when I came in. Allergic to lacewings, if that means anything." The older girl had looked absolutely terrible, hair sticking to her face with sweat and retching every other minute it seemed. He remembered Pomfrey getting so worried that the prefect couldn't even keep water down that she floo called St. Mungos.

His memory wasn't perfect. There were gaps, but then Harry himself had been pretty sick as well.

Theo whistled. "Lacewings are in almost every medicinal potion, she must be _miserable."_

"Odd time for a wizard flu epidemic." This time, Neville snagged a chocolate frog. "Usually a winter thing. Oh hey." He dug out the pentagonal card and flipped it around to show them. "Lily Potter."

Theo sat up a bit straighter, his fingers twitching in Neville's direction. "I don't have one of those," he tried to sound disinterested and failed. "You collect cards, Longbottom?"

After looking at Harry for permission, Neville passed the card over. "Plants, actually."

Nott raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Plants? Nope!" He held up a hand as Neville's mouth opened. "I'm just going to believe that you are a strange boy and that's that. Made up my mind."

"But—"

"Made up my mind."

Harry laughed. "You can tell me about your plant collection? Cool man-eaters right?" He got an exasperated look from the boy in question. "No?"

"Pass me a cauldron cake, will you?"

Harry reached over, digging through the basket for Theo. "Didn't you guys just have supper? Why are you eating all my sweets?"

"Growing boys."

"Come on now, Harry. There is no way you'll eat all that by yourself," Neville pointed out reasonably. "We're helping! That's what friends do, right?"

Theo leaned forward, his eyes sharp, chewing on his cauldron cake. "Another one is black."

Harry stopped. Then tore off his necklace frantically in a sudden wash of panic that came out of _nowhere_, sending the quill he was holding to the floor where it splattered ink in a small star burst.

Eighteen.

He stared at it. He cast his mind back, trying to remember if it had ever glowed. Nothing came up. He was reluctant to relax, the expected relief didn't come. Perhaps it did just happen, like he had told Theo the first day. Nothing had happened. He rolled that around in his mind. Nothing had happened. He got sick, that was all. Nothing was wrong.

_Something was wrong._

He grit his teeth and carefully pulled it back on. He glanced at the empty bed across the room. _Something was wrong. _He lifted his eyes to see his friends looking at him worriedly.

"You alright, mate?"

"Yeah." He looked at them both and swallowed bile back down. "Good catch," he said softly. "It's important."

If only he could figure out why.


	9. Thana

**_Deathly Hallowed_**

_The Tale of Three Brothers was not a legend. It was a warning. No one cheats Death. And luckily for Lily Potter, the promise of the Cloak's return in exchange for her son's life was a fair deal._

* * *

_The fidelius held. The fragments still scream from the walls in the nursery. James is still dead. We took the secret from Remus because we thought it doesn't matter what we thought, Sirius went off like a loose cannon and __**Peter**__…I told it that he tried to hurt Harry. I told it he was a traitor, a filthy, dirty __**rat **__and I told it to __**find him. **- Lily Potter_

* * *

The reading room in Malfoy Manor belonged to the Lady of the house. The Lord has his moments, but Lucius wasn't usually an idiot and so didn't attempt to drive a compromise when he saw the hard look in his wife's eyes. This was non-negotiable. She needed space when she felt too big for her own skin. She needed quiet when her senses flared. She needed a room she could lock herself in that was so undeniably _hers _when the alien feeling of possessiveness bubbled up in her stomach and scorched her heart. She did not know how Andromeda coped over the years, with the unpleasant murmur of _other _skittering around her edges. She never asked.

She thought even less of how Bellatrix did.

But the reading room was hers.

_Mine_

She was responsible for having the room repainted from its arrogant dark green and silver to softer beige offsetting the new dark wood siding. These were her mahogany bookshelves lining the walls, full almost to bursting with her books. She chose the deep red center carpet and the tasteful array of wood furniture. That was her peacock feather collection hanging on the wall above the hearth, her taste in linens on the windows and she could care less about the Malfoy crest and motto displayed proudly in other rooms. _Tourjours Pur_ was etched across the corners of the floor, as it should be and the crackling fireplace had a separate floo address so that she could receive her own guests whenever she wished.

Which coincidentally, should be in roughly two minutes.

Hers.

Narcissa Malfoy pursed her lips thoughtfully as she slid her bookmark in between the pages and looked out the main window. The view outside was perfectly melancholy. Grey clouds were hanging low enough the brush the treetops, a wispy mist rising from the grounds. The vibrancy had been leeched from the grass and the encroaching fog turned the distant willows into hazy, bowed shapes. It wasn't raining. Not yet. It teetered in that grey in-between on the cusp of letting go. A murder of crows winged past silently.

She never liked storms.

The fireplace flared green. She closed her book—silently resolving to finish it later, it really was quite interesting—and set it on the small table beside her chair. As Cadmus Yaxley stepped out of the flames, she slipped a polite smile onto her face and slowly stood.

"Dreadful weather, isn't it?" She said in greeting and let a flicker of surprise show on her face. Yaxley was one of those cultured brutes that toed the fine line between 'insufferable' and 'prideful.' He was a blond man with hard features, unmarried, and desperately attempting to sink his own ship with careless bigotry. Lucius may whine and complain, but he had the sense to pay lip service to public opinion.

He paused in the act of brushing stray soot from his sleeves to peek out the window and grunted. "It's worse in Hampshire." He took a few unhurried steps to the side. 'Expect a few centimeters."

The fire flared green again. Narcissa ignored the smaller figure that stepped into her room.

"I must admit I did not expect you to come personally." In fact, the less time she spent with the unpleasant man, the better. "Is everything alright?"

"Are you particularly attached to your windows?" He sneered, clapping his hands behind his back sharply.

The child by his side shrunk miserably.

"Not particularly," she drawled. Deeper in the manor, the large grandfather clock began to chime. Her fingers twitched at the thought of being late for supper _yet again_ but reigned in the agitation hard. Breaking windows. Her eyes flicked to the girl and back.

"Good. I hope you don't mind watching over my great-niece for a few days then." He said. "She's been an irritant."

"It has been a bit lonely since my Draco left for school," she conceded. "I suppose it wouldn't be too much trouble, surely."

Yaxley's face darkened as he shot a poisonous look at his niece. "It better not be."

They exchanged a few meaningless pleasantries—she did at any rate, Yaxley really was a brute—before he gave her a barely adequate nod and departed with a flare of green fire. Narcissa took a few minutes to gather her thoughts and then organize them. The first few droplets of rain began to splatter on the window.

"Lucius is having dinner with some associates," she began. "You will stay in the third guest room on the second floor when he is home. You will eat your meals in the main dining room. Kel!"

A pathetic looking house elf wearing red rags popped into existence cowering in the corner furthest away from the fireplace. Its bulbous eyes were fixated on the girl who gave it a tentative smile in return. "K-kel be answering mistress?"

"Fix anything Anna breaks. Keep her out of trouble on the grounds. The third guest room on the second floor. Get to it." It popped away and Narcissa took the time to really _look_ at the girl. On the surface, she was the picture of a little pureblood child, if a bit unhappy, with her well groomed posture, feet together and hands at her side. But there were little things. Her hair seemed longer or at least, less tamed since the last time the woman had seen her. Her eyes were downcast and she was _quiet. _The fact that she wasn't already being driven up the wall with an irreverent, cavalier attitude was the biggest clue that something was wrong.

Narcissa turned towards the window. A wind was picking up slowly, ruffling the grass in waves. "I do not understand why you don't make him more agreeable." She pretended to carefully inspect the glass before commenting whimsically, "You certainly have the ability."

"Mrs. Tonks doesn't like it when I do that," Anna said plainly and Narcissa almost smiled.

"I am well aware that answer doesn't say you've stopped," she said smoothly, trailing a finger along the path a fat rain drop left on the window. "Perhaps you just stopped being caught?"

Anna's breath hitched.

Narcissa gave her a side long look. "Tell me why you are having problems with accidental magic."

"My soul is healing," Anna said bluntly. "Sometimes it stretches and sometimes it _hurts _and then," she flapped her hands in the air vaguely. "Magic leaks out."

"And breaks windows," Narcissa finished dryly. A tight feeling curled in her breast that she moved to ruthlessly squash, but found herself hesitating for reasons she couldn't put into words. For a soul to heal it first had to be hurt, and there were very few things that could harm a soul.

Very few things.

Anna blinked twice, an odd quirk she sometimes fell into when she was feeling stressed. The girl noticed, palming her face tiredly. "I thought I quit doing that," she muttered and then peaked through her splayed fingers. "And break, well, _everything_, yes."

Narcissa frowned slightly, giving Anna another look over and tried to figure out why the girl outwardly seemed so _bothered _before nodding curtly. "You will join me for supper, I hope?"

Anna looked up at her, and then off to the side before murmuring, "I'm not very hungry."

A candle lit in her head. "Oh, for Morgana's sake, you're _brooding._" Anna closed her eyes and hung her head in silent suffering as Narcissa started to wind herself up, offended on the behalf of witches everywhere. _"Never _brood. It's a waste of time, completely useless and accomplishes _nothing_ productive. Wallowing in self-pity is beneath a witch of your heritage—" Anna shifted uncomfortably and started to tune out the rest of the impromptu lecture. "—if you don't like the results, then change it."

The girl's head shot up. "Say that again?"

Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "If you don't like the results," she said slowly. "_Change it._"

Anna stared at her for a long moment. "Change it," she whispered. Her eyes unfocused, seeing something else even if exactly what escaped the woman. "I would need to…it doesn't even have to _know…_" A slow, vicious grin grew on the girl's face as her eyes snapped back. "I can do that." She snorted, running a hand through her black hair carelessly and blissfully back to normal. "No problem. So, food?"

Narcissa thought about asking and then decided against it. She wanted to keep her distance, even if it got harder each time. "Don't terrorize the house elves," she told the girl sternly.

Anna grasped at her chest dramatically. "Would I do that?"

"I am not going to dignify that with a response."

"Cake for dessert?"

_"Behave."_

The fireplace flared green for a fourth time. She knew by the way an ethereal string leading out from her mind stretched taunt, and then slackened that it was Lily. "You are late."

The red headed woman looked worn. She stooped slightly, almost indignantly scrunched up like someone had poked her in the stomach when she had least expected it. Her footsteps were heavy and her hands fluttered uncertainly over her sleeves, jerking off course a few times. The inscribed Sowulo rune on her forehead stood out darkly and, more telling, the famous lock of white hair was vibrant.

Lily's eyes flickered between the two of them and she felt Anna sneak behind her. "Thana, we need to talk—" She was interrupted by Anna's panicked voice.

"Talk? We don't need to talk. I won't tell him, I'm sorry, won't do it again and, um," Narcissa's eyes rolled skyward as she reached out behind her and snagged the girl's collar. "I hate you," Anna muttered bitterly in turn, tugging. Narcissa didn't have to decency to pretend she cared.

Lily sighed. "I'm not mad at you."

Anna stopped trying to escape. "You aren't?" The girl turned around to peer suspiciously out from behind her disgruntled person-shield. "Really?"

The ghost of a smile formed on Lily's face. "Really really."

For a fifth time, the fire turned green. Narcissa's heart gave one loud, desperate thump, stuttered and skipped a few beats before picking up the new rhythm. Andromeda finished stepping out of the flames still dressed in St. Mungos hospital scrubs and idly rubbing an eight year old star burst scar on her chest. Narcissa had broken herself of that habit years ago but she couldn't deny that it was a feeling she could never get used to.

"Mrs. Tonks!" Anna cried out happily.

"You are also late," Narcissa said dryly. There were a few loud thwacks against the window as the first heavy raindrops began to fall in earnest. Flashes of brilliant light tickled the cloud underbellies and roughly seven seconds later, they laughed thunder.

Andromeda ran her hand through her curls—and in that very instant, Narcissa realized where Anna got that uncouth quirk from—and blew a dangling lock out of her face. "Something came up." Her older sister and Lily shared a glance. "I apologize," she said sincerely before holding her hands out to the girl still hiding, soft brown eyes lighting up with affection. "Do I not get a hug squirt?" Anna carefully did not run, but scooted around the glass swan table cautiously into the waiting arms. Andromeda squeezed her tightly. "Lucky for me you're not too old for hugs yet!"

Anna's voice was muffled. "You have permission to stop me from growing stupid."

Andromeda's startled laughter came out high. "I'll hold you to that," she said. "I've been hug starved ever since Nymphadora decided auror trainees were too tough for hugs."

Lily watched the two longingly as she came to stand beside Narcissa. "Maybe I should have given her to Dromeda," she whispered.

"Don't brood," Narcissa snapped irritably. "What's done is done. And what _exactly_," she pinned Lily with an icy glare. "Was done?"

Lily hesitated. "If I told you, that I left a non-hostile aspect of Desire in Hogwarts, what would you say?" Narcissa's mouth opened, caught on what to say and then closed. Lily turned to her completely, looking a bit concerned. "Are you alright?"

"You left an aspect of Desire _in a castle of teenagers?_"

Lily had to pause. And then dropped her face into the palms of her hands with a quiet groan of 'I am an idiot.' "I _knew_ I was forgetting something…" She looked up. "It has an artifact there, apparently, although now I'm sure a castle full of _play things _had something to do with its reluctance to leave." Lily's face blanked as her eyes drifted back over to where Anna was fervently denying being ticklish. "The _hostile _one just needed incentive."

That didn't sound promising. Narcissa almost demanded a clearer answer, wanted to veto and forbid whatever plan Lily had in mind but she held her tongue. She got like this at times. Driven to reach a nebulous goal only she could put words to but failed to fully explain. "Are you sure you know what you are doing?" she asked quietly.

"Not Harry," Lily's voice broke. "It has to go. Thana!" She called out.

Anna shifted towards them curiously. "You said you weren't mad," she reminded Lily warily, squirming suddenly, shielding hands up, as Andromeda took advantage of the distraction to dig a finger into the girl's sensitive side. _"Hey."_

"And I'm not," Lily agreed smoothly before spouting off a list of seemingly random words. "Running water, crystal, cave, tunnel, green eyes."

The confused silence didn't even last two seconds before Anna blurted out, "What?" Her shadow twisted.

Lily's lips curled and Narcissa found herself stiffening. There was something about that look on the younger woman's face; that patiently indulgent satisfaction triggered every cautious gut instinct she had. It was obvious that Andromeda had also noticed, eyes wide and cheeks rapidly losing color, just as it was readily apparent that Anna didn't.

"You want me to find a…a place?" Anna offered hesitantly, trying to anticipate the request. Andromeda snatched at the thin shoulder, and drew the girl close protectively. "Over there?"

"Can you?" The pair of brilliant green eyes burned.

"Yeah!" Anna said with naïve enthusiasm. She barely managed to avoid sitting on Andromeda's toes as she dropped to the floor and spread her fingers out into the wider, thicker shadow her compact posture created. "I need a bit more though." She blinked large, blue eyes at Narcissa. "I can do it here, right?"

"Of course," she said. Her voice was blank. "I assume you need space and so we—" There was a stubborn edge she was very familiar with to her sister. "_We _will leave." In the end, she didn't have to drag Andromeda from the room but it was a very near thing. As the door closed behind them, she let out an indignant huff. "Oh, don't give me that look."

The hallway stretched out dimly. Flickering candles carelessly tossed about warm light and shifting shadows reflected onto the walls. A dark green rug outlined in silver tassels was off center as it ran down that wing, periodically passing marble stands topped with flower vases and tall windows dripping with rain.

"You _saw _her," Andromeda hissed. "Don't tell me—"

"So Potter isn't stable. That _isn't_ news—"

"She _just went!_ Not even a week and she's like this."

Narcissa's fingers rubbed circles on her temples. "Temporary measures are just that," she said. "Temporary. If you would just let the girl—"

Andromeda cut that off with a sharp motion of her hand. "_No._ That's not behavior to encourage, especially not when she has to _steal sanity from someone else."_

"Occulemency then. We have a few texts," and Andromeda interrupted her.

"And who is going to look into her mind and _see every—"_

Thunder cracked. They both winced. The clouds were heavier, beginning to boil a foreboding grey. The onset of rain had crushed the tentative mist into the ground in muddy puddles and rivulets of small twigs, leaves and drowned insects. The willows weeped.

"I never liked storms," Narcissa murmured softly.

The vestiges of sunlight mingled with the candlelight inside to form a mingled shadow picture on the walls: streaks of rainwater feeding into the fuzzy outlines of two women. Sisters. Their hearts beat in warm tandem.

"Is that what you dream of?" Andromeda asked just as quietly. "Storms?"

"It eats the sun," her fingernails bit into her palm, "And covers the world."

Andromeda nodded. Slowly. Just once. "Everything burns in mine. You ever wonder what Bella sees?"

"No," Narcissa lied. "Nor do I have any wish to know."

Her sister smirked, searched her face with a heavy lidded stare and for a few dazed seconds the resemblance is _perfect _rather than just uncanny, but she blinks and then it's gone. She wishes she didn't wonder, could simply forget there had ever been a third instead of just two but Andromeda would remind her out of an overblown sense of guilt. What was Bella dreaming? What was she feeling? What would the Dementors make her remember?

Bellatrix would be better off dead.

Old magic never works the way one thinks it should. Three sisters, three hearts to sustain an artificial life. She didn't blame Andromeda for tying her into this.

Not anymore.

Lightning flashed. She braced herself. This time the thunder that followed was a rumbling roar.

Four seconds.

* * *

In the reading room, Thana closed her eyes and listened to Lily's voice. It was a nice voice, she thought. Warm and firm, pitched just high enough to narrowly escape the alto range and light on the ears. She settled in with a small sigh and felt her shadow move.

"There is singing with no words, just one pure note that ducks and weaves around itself. It bounces, echoing off the walls of an underwater crystal cavern and the stones hum."

She tore off a small piece of herself, it stung, and cast it out as the picture began to form in her mind. An underwater crystal cavern.

"The ground is littered with razor fossils, fine white sand and slivers of crystal. There is water. Clear water gently lapping on the small beach."

There was a pull. A wellspring of urgency rose up. She wasn't whole, she wasn't whole, she _needed _to be whole, it wasn't coming back to her so she needed to go _there._

"Strings of kelp touch the surface and deeper under an aquamarine shade are colorful fish with flashing orange and red scales, yellow and purple coral grow from a sea bed that curves into a tunnel you can't see into…"

Lily's voice stopped.

If she had to compare it to anything, Thana would say it was much like how she imagined a ride out of a giant slingshot would feel like with less than half the fun and twice as much danger. She never mentioned it, half-convinced Lily already knew and it was only _potential _danger. Really. She had to skirt the edges of realms already occupied by concepts she could barely comprehend and sometimes, they _saw._

But she was just a fragment. Small and quick. Unimportant. Too miniscule to spend effort.

She snagged on herself. It was disorienting, the sudden reversal of phantom inertia, flipped upside down, twisted and squeezed into a jumble of thoughts that were hers and _not_, streaked through a thick fog that left water droplets on her face and spat out.

_Cheom'ysi nar'nn hafhgh a'a gos ru'ngh ch'e gothra_

"Yeah, I know," she whispered. "Shut up." Nausea. The piece wasn't settling well. Disgruntled. And she didn't know why.

She stretched out her hand –good, she could move—and felt around. Sharp rocks. She hissed. _Really _sharp rocks and fine, grainy dust. No, not dust.

She opened her eyes.

White sand.

She stood up carefully. A few droplets of blood from her fingers desecrated the brilliant white. She picked a small rock out of her thumb and frowned as she held it. It expanded and contracted rhythmically. The rock seemed to breathe.

She dropped it.

The cavern was even more beautiful than Lily described, sheaves of clear crystals layered the walls and when she reached out and plucked one, all of them hummed, lighting up in different colors as they played a strange melody. The cave was large, the size of Potter Cottage in its entirety, small rivers gushed out of cracks in the stone with tiny plinking noises and sparkled with light. Thana sat down on a patch of pure sand and breathed in. There was no hint of salt. It smelled like honey and rain. She reached out and plucked a crystal again to set the song off once more.

That was when her finger fell off.

She sighed and scooped the errant digit up from the ground. "Aaaand that's what I get for not eating my vegetables." Her voice echoed. The crystals fell silent. "Oops."

The pool of water on the far side of the cavern swelled upwards with a rising bubble. It crested slowly. Water didn't stream off the sides like she expected it to, it _was _the water, a clear pillar rising silently. It rippled.

An eye, green, tumbled up the column like a marble, turning. Then another one. The first eye hit the top and sunk back down, creating an awkward moment where it met the other one coming up. They rolled around each other and continued on their way. A third joined. Fourth. Soon a little congo line of green eyes were bobbing up and down and Thana almost smiled.

It spoke.

"I'm sorry I—you've got a strong accent." If talking with golf balls in your mouth could be considered an accent, at least that's what it sounded like to her. Glimpses of words she almost understood but most of it was lost. "What was that?"

_Deathling_

The pillar undulated and Thana was suddenly reminded of Harry's pet snake. She cast herself out. She didn't want to be here.

_Trespasser_

Its side split and blood spurted out. Blood and _hands._

**_Do you bleed_**

She didn't want to be here! It lashed out, there were eyes in the palm of each bloody hand, sharpened bones ripped through the finger tips straight for her—

She skidded off the edge of a realm, nearly slammed straight through another before she realized she was out. She was out. She was out? Yes, out. Safe.

**_Holy shit._**

She crumpled back into her body, a ghostly ache stabbing into her right hand and she heard the sound of cracking glass. She left her finger behind and her soul tried stretching out to cope.

Well.

Too bad.

"—talk to me. Are you alright? What happened?"

Thana opened her eyes blearily, just enough to see red hair and green eyes before closing them again. "Lily?" she said. The woman ran anxious fingers through her hair. "I don't think it liked me." Her stomach flipped upside down and crunched. "Bathroom!"

She barely made it to the toilet, upchucking her lunch of meat and potatoes, carrots and three chocolate frogs.

And a bit of blood.

She stared at the rust streaks in the porcelain bowl. Her throat burned. "Oh," she breathed. She checked the mirror. Her reflection had too many eyes. "I'm in trouble." Someone knocked at the door and she hurriedly pressed down on the silver handle. All the evidence flushed away. "Yeah?"

The voice was slightly muffled through the door but it sounded like Mrs. Tonks. "Are you feeling better?"

After a few handfuls of water gargled and spat, Thana opened the door. And was immediately swept up into a warm, slightly too tight, hug. She hugged back. Something in her face gave and the bathroom mirror behind her shattered into the sink. Her ears burned as Mrs. Tonks dug out her wand while still holding on to her and repaired it.

"Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," the woman said warmly. "Can you eat or is it too soon?"

Thana's stomach answered for her with a hungry gurgle.

Mrs. Tonks laughed. "That answers that," and started to lead her back down the hall.

The rain fell unevenly. Some soft patters, some hard drips. A wind began to pick up, whistling through the willow trees that lined the southern edge of the Malfoy grounds with a flexibility that almost made it sound like a song.

Perhaps _exactly _like a song.

Thana bit her lip and snuck a glance but it didn't seem as though Mrs. Tonks was hearing anything. She tried to listen again, to pick out the melody from the wind and rain. It had faded. The candles lining the wall wavered. A few guttered out entirely. Their shadows stretched into long, searching fingers down to the floor but they stayed lit.

A subtle, eerie feeling skittered up her spine and settled on the nape of her neck.

"Go on ahead. I need to speak with Lily about something."

Thana stopped with her by the reading room and repressed the urge to fidget. "I want a big slice of chocolate cake for dessert," she informed the woman seriously. "With strawberries."

Andromeda Tonks had what Thana privately thought of as the 'mom stare.' The one where you know you did something you weren't supposed to, but you pulled it off _perfectly_ with no witnesses, no evidence, no body and a rock solid alibi but she'd look at you and _through _you. You know she knows but you don't know _how. _

Narcissa Malfoy had it too, on the rare occasions when she forgot she wasn't supposed to care about what Thana did and didn't get up to.

Lily Potter didn't.

The woman turned, a strand of russet curls falling into her face. "Make it two slices."

Thana beamed.

Andromeda watched the girl go. Heard her yelp, a window shatter and a house elf's frantic assurances that it could fix it, it could fix it if the young misses would just _leave, no not that way _and shook her head. Inside the private room, Narcissa sat on the small couch in front of the fire place while Lily stood by the window, looking outside. She let out a low hiss and beat the sparks of temper down.

"What are you trying to pull?" She spat out.

Lily swiveled in place, startled. "Pardon?"

"If you had enough visual cues for Anna to go, then you had enough for you to go _yourself._" Narcissa leaned back on the couch, resting an elbow on the back of it with her fingers laced in front of her and decidedly not in the conversation. "Why did you need her?"

"I'm neutral ground," Lily pointed out. Within a few words, she seemed to be clawing at the very edge of her patience. "I _mediate_. Desire wasn't going around attacking kids, but the other _was."_

The fuse was lit. Andromeda's teeth worrisomely creaked. "_What _does that have to do with Anna?"

Lily passed a weary hand over her eyes, turning back to the window. The sun had set, mostly, leaving only vague shapes and shadows blurred with rain. "Life was after Harry."

"Ah," Narcissa spoke up suddenly. "Incentive. I see."

Andromeda exploded. _"You set her up as bait?"_

Lily whirled around, eyes flashing. "_Mediate!"_ She repeated harshly. "I sure as _hell _can't _order _it to _stop!"_

_"So you point it at a ten year old girl?"_

"Thana can take care of herself—"

Andromeda laughed. A high pitched, almost crazed laugh that made them all flinch. "Take care of herself how? Abilities she barely understands and uses by instinct?"

"That's a hell of a lot more than what Harry has!"

_"Blackguard _had more, what makes you think she even—"

"_She's an aspect!"_ Now Lily was shouting, her slight frame practically vibrating from the tension. _"That's what aspects do!"_

"Death _had _an aspect. Anna is _not _it!"

"Her _name _is Tha—"

Narcissa shoved the two apart roughly with only a quiet "Enough." Andromeda's brown eyes had embers in them, teeth bared in an ugly snarl. Lily just shook. "Sit down." Her eyes flicked between the two of them. "_Now."_

Potter collapsed into the chair by the window and buried her face into her hands. Andromeda broke off wildly, picking out a random book from the shelves and throwing herself onto the couch with it, clutching the pages so hard they threatened to rip. Outside, the storm broke. Rain fell in sheets and flooded the yard as the clouds slowly spiraled overhead, spitting lightning and coughing thunder. The barrier of water became so thick at points; it was as if nothing tangible existed outside the walls of the Manor.

Just, perhaps, the very faintest strain of a song.

Lily began to talk to herself hoarsely, some of the words were swallowed by her hands. "Bait…as _bait_, oh god, what…why would I…obliviated Harry…I can't believe I…" Her shoulders trembled. Droplets of water splattered onto the floor.

The grandfather clock chimed half past. Narcissa sighed.

"This can all wait until after we've had supper, yes?"

Andromeda closed her book with a loud clap. She placed it onto the table and got up, striding to the door with every ounce of poise and grace a daughter of Black should have and what the woman rarely used unless she was barely holding herself together. Narcissa was not surprised to hear Andromeda's knuckles crack when she clutched the door frame. "What is Anna's favorite sweet?"

Lily looked up slowly at the question. "Sugar quills?"

Andromeda cocked her head to the side silently and walked out.

Lily crumbled. "That was the wrong answer, wasn't it?"

"It's baked goods, actually. Cakes, pies and pastries." Narcissa twisted the knife a little more. "It's what she always asks to have for dessert. I believe it was your son who introduced her to cookies, even. Chocolate frogs are a close second, if only because she's obsessed with the cards." She observed the younger woman with a critical eye and smiled unkindly. "You don't really notice the girl at all, do you?"

"She seemed to be doing fine to me," she defended weakly.

"And why should you trouble yourself?" Narcissa agreed pleasantly. "After all, she isn't Harry."

That struck a raw nerve. "She's not _Draco _either."

"I never claimed otherwise, _godmother." _Lily flinched. "Wallow in self-pity if you absolutely must." Narcissa voice left no doubts as to what she felt about _that. _She dismissed herself from the room with a careless wave. "I'm late."

"I thought I was…the pieces from…" came Lily's small, hesitant voice in the empty room. "I thought I was _helping." _And then violently, _"Shit!"_

Something shattered.

Supper was a somber affair.

Narcissa sat in her chair at the head of the table as a recluse queen, reading the Daily Prophet and only responding with short one to two word answers to any question. Andromeda was seated near the middle, some odd number of empty chairs on both sides of her and still simmering. She talked about everything and anything in a way that didn't invite much commentary; distraction. Thana sat across from her quietly, taking small bites of her cake and intently listening to the staccato drumming of the rain.

"Are you done?"

Thana blinked up at Mrs. Tonks and realized she had left half a cake slice still on her plate. "No," she said quickly before her plate could disappear. The house elves often took the initiative around her to reduce face time. "I'm just, um, thinking." She gave a shaky smile.

"About?" She prodded.

Thana looked down. "Everything," she mumbled. Her shadow curled and slithered up her chair. "Mrs. Tonks?" The woman hummed positively. "What did you feel…when you got disowned?"

"Relief," she answered immediately. The Daily Prophet in Narcissa's hands ripped, the only indication that she was even listening. They watched the blonde woman for a few moments, but she continued to ignore them both.

"Relief," Thana repeated. She poked the cake slice with her fork causing it to flop over. "Right…"

"Is this about Lily?"

Thana mutely shook her head, savagely cutting the cake into small pieces.

Andromeda watched her. The girl's shadow coiled like a snake and then darted out, snapping up a piece of dessert from right under the fork. Thana tried to frown but the corner of her lips kept ticking upwards as her shadow helped itself to another small piece. Her eyebrows rose.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Her shadow sprouted a small blue eye that blinked innocently. A tendril snuck out and engulfed another piece.

"Fiiiiine."

Andromeda smiled wryly. "That's a bit disturbing."

Narcissa turned a page absently. "To say the least."

Thana froze. Her blue eyes round as they lifted from the table. "…sorry…"

"It's alright." Honesty shone out from Andromeda's face. "You know you can come to me with anything, right? Anything at all."

The dessert plate cracked. "May I be excused?"

Andromeda gave her a considering look. She took in the fidgeting, the scales the small fingers were playing on the edge of the polished wooden table and nodded. Thana slipped out of her chair, her shadow melting back into the floor but half way to the door she simply stopped, looking out the window into the storm.

Narcissa allowed herself to notice. The Daily Prophet drooped, forgotten, in her hands. Thana's shadow didn't seem able to hold a shape, flattening, sharpening, and twisting frantically. "Something the matter?"

Thana snapped out of her trance. "I think I…" Her face scrunched up in confusion. "I think I really have to go…"

Andromeda jumped to her feet harshly, kicking her chair out from under her with a loud screech of wood on tile. "_Don't go anywhere_." Her voice tightened with something close to panic, but tasting more of fear. "Stay right where you are, Anna!" A few steps forward to melt into the window oblivious. "Anna, _listen_ to me. Don't go."

_Tha thung, shax ghhutla', ghaa't a tuftkan natk_

Ink in a pool in of water. Droplets of black sprouted in Thana's eyes as she pressed her nose to the glass in wonder.

"It's out there," she whispered softly. "Can't you _hear_ it?" It was a haunting tune she could have sworn she heard before, drifting through her sleep but just slightly off. The lullaby Lily would sing in her worst days, inverted. It slithered under her skin and expanded, pressing deep. Bloodless cuts and frigid air, vastness. "It's _beautiful."_

Narcissa pushed off the table. "I'll get Lily."

"_Anna." _Andromeda's voice cracked. "We can't hear anything. _Stay." _The mediwitch gauged the table, prepared to vault across it if she had to. "Anna, look at—"

A fell breeze blew out every candle.

Lightning lit up the pitch dark. Flash. Thana leaning against the window, eyes dark.

_Don't go! Stay here, you're safe in here—_

Flash.

The glass around her fingers rippled. Rolling thunder.

Flash.

Pale mist seeped into the pane.

_Don't go! Anna! Don't go! Don't go—_

Flash.

Just the window, cracked. The girl, gone.

* * *

Thana reappeared in a flash of black with a choking gasp and a pained curse. Instead of the brief foray into a dense fog, it had felt like she had flown head long into a series of particularly whippy branches. One had viciously socked her in the gut and drove all the air out of her lungs while another slashed across her face, just narrowly missing her eye. She coughed. A shaking hand was swiped across her face. She wasn't bleeding, even if it still stung.

The pull was weaker now. No, not weaker, directed. Instead of an overpowering **_come _**there was an almost polite _you're almost there. _Just over that hill. The singing was muffled into a whimsical hum.

The storm hadn't hit wherever she was. Not yet. It drizzled. Underneath her feet the grass squelched and mud oozed. Over head the clouds were still a light grey, low hanging and far off into the distance over the crest of the hill was clear, dark blue sky. There were a lot of trees, she noticed. Tall, stately oaks and pines that gradually closed in.

Thana slipped on a few wet leaves and fire raced up her side.

She gritted her teeth. "What did—did I break something?" That didn't make any sense. Sure, those branches had _hurt _but…She grunted and pushed herself back onto her feet. Sporadic big raindrops began to fall with the little ones, a fat one splashing on the tip of her nose. Her robes were charmed to be impervious, her head wasn't. A few lone drops slipped under the collar.

Thana reached the top of the hill only to discover that it hadn't been a hill at all. The top plateaued out into a dense forest. Traces of what looked like nature's slow reclamation of a dirt road curved in front of her. She followed it.

The path turned a little, widened. A frog hopped across into a puddle. It led into a wide clearing, surrounded by a ring of old, gnarled trees, shadows in the bark. In the center were the remains of a burned down shed.

Thana crept closer.

The shed was a crumbling heap of charcoal and broken wood. _Except._ What would have been the back wall looked untouched. The fire had ravaged the walls right up the edges, had consumed wooden shingles and rafters of the roof _just _short and a single, broken window looked out into the world. The clouds directly above swirled into a miniature dark eye of the storm.

Bone deep was the feeling that she should know what it was she was looking at.

Thana rounded the shed and caught glimpses of burned shells that might have been books once upon a time. The middle of the floor was almost entirely eaten through, green shoots of grass poking up in between charred holes in the floorboards. Odd lumps caught the light and reflected silver. Some patches that the flames had only licked at had squiggly lines scrawled across them. Those same lines were pristine on the unburnt wall. A sharp pang of nostalgia. Yes, she really should know this place. The shed almost didn't seem real. She could see it. She could touch it. And yet it felt like a dream.

Why was she here?

Thana blinked slowly. And the rain. Stopped. Hundreds, thousands of small crystal droplets hung in midair. She reached out a shivering finger—

They whipped past her. Merging. Melting into one perfect sphere. It expanded, each raindrop leaving minute ripples on its surface until it towered over her, ten times her size. A seam smiled across it.

A gigantic green eye opened. In the blackness of the large pupil, a twisted face.

_I remember you deathling_

Thana took a few cautious steps away, trying to smile disarmingly but her lips seemed to have forgotten how. "I think I remember you too."

_Your existence is an offense_

"Hey! I didn't do _anything _to you—" except play around in its realm and bleed all over its floor without permission_._ Death tolerated her poking about. She never even considered how the others would handle it. Thana quailed. "I mean, I'm sorry?"

It went silent.

She backed up, already reaching for the space in between realities and ready to—she flickered, popping back into existence with a _scream._

_It tore!_ There was turbulence here, a hole, a tear, a _wound _and it felt like she was being _shredded to pieces—_the pain made her fall. That saved her life. A tendril of hard water lashed past where her head had been, she rolled—mud, water and grass erupted into the air—it was trying to kill her.

She was going to die.

Slammed her hands into the ground, her shadow tore at her, hooked claws into her skin and _jerked—_she bled fire and could _feel _the air split with a near miss. Get out of the clearing. Get out of the clearing, she was a sitting duck, the _trees, get into the trees—_she scrambled for purchase on the wet ground, pouring everything she had into her legs to make the dash, ignoring the tight stitch in her side as the trees loomed closer because she was going to make it-!

Her foot slipped, she lost her balance and it lanced into her back, rupturing through the skin just underneath the collarbone and _lifted_—her vision went white with burning pain—her shadow surged up as a knife, cutting through—the tendril fell apart into acid water.

_Don't pass out, don't pass out, don't pass out—_

She lurched behind a thick tree and let her left arm hang limp. She darted around behind another one, running as fast as she dared deeper into the forest in random directions. She spared a glance at the—her stomach rolled, the robe ripped just enough to show a glimpse of bloody skin puckered outwards. It wasn't bleeding as much as she thought it would—_that's a good thing, focus!_ She slowed and ducked behind a large oak, shoulder—_OW not that shoulder_—against the bark and listened. At first, there was just the slight rustling of branches but then her ears picked up, faintly, the sound of running water. There. To the right.

Thana smiled grimly. She could hear it.

A droplet of water splashed onto her hand. Then another.

"You _dick." _Her eyes narrowed as it loosened its grip on the weather. It slowly began to rain again, complete with the occasional flashes of lightning and the roll of distant thunder. Rain pitter pattered onto the leaves. Her ears were now useless. "Well played, asshole."

Time to go.

She pushed off the tree, starting off in the direction the exact opposite of where she had heard it last, picking her way through carefully. Pain strobed out warmly from her collarbone, every heart beat stung. It was darker than she was comfortable with under the leafy canopy. The shadows pooled. She crouched into a large patch of darkness, dug her fingers into the moist ground and watched the light fade.

_War?_ Her call bounced back, mangled and unanswered. She swore, ripping her fingers out of the soil. She was never coming here, ever, again. Why the hell didn't she _listen _when they told her not to go? What the hell was _wrong _with her?

She moved on. Her eyes prickled with what might have been tears, but she blinked them away. All she had to do was reach the edge of whatever was keeping her here. And then she would be home free. She'd probably be grounded for the rest of her _life _but that was okay! She didn't think she ever wanted to leave her damn _room—_

A song cut through the air. Loud, all encompassing, beckoning. She was lost and it wanted to find her, a beach of white sand and razor fossils, didn't she want to be found—Thana reeled as her head exploded with pain, a splinter lodged itself into her gut and refused to be swayed, she stepped backwards and _away—_something in her side collapsed.

_Snap!_

A few branches snapped of under the weight of accidental magic. There was a moment of terrible silence. And then it raised an unearthly wail. Water slashed through the trees in front of her, smoke curling out of the trunks as they fell with resounding groans, she turned and ran.

She slapped her hand against every sturdy tree that passed close by, sending a pulse into the shadows that gathered among its roots and praying—she didn't care to who—that one would take, one would get through and that she could get out, the rough bark ripped her skin until she was slamming a palm scraped raw and bleeding against the wood—

She caught a glimpse of nothing but grass. _She'd been going to wrong way!_ She skidded and threw herself to the side, everything hurt, water screamed past. The rain fell in buckets as the bursts of lightning wreaked havoc on her eyesight. She misjudged the distance, her bad shoulder crushed into the trunk and she bit back a shriek, spinning, she had to stay _on her feet_—her shadow dug into her and yanked her forwards, she didn't need to see it to tell it had been a close call. She heard the tree behind her explode. She could vaguely see the perfect sphere moving, running just slightly off parallel. Either she risked going past it _now _or it would force her out into the open.

That was no choice at all.

She ran straight at it. Its eye opened hugely, dilating into a screaming abyss. She could see it in the few seconds a crack of lightning gave, the water gathering and she was ready for it. The tendril sped forwards and she allowed herself one, slow blink before crunching, a few sizzling drops landed in her wet hair and she was past i—

Thana howled as a smaller blade of hardened water bit into her side and a solid club batted her away. It was almost a familiar feeling, whipped with branches in reverse but then—there was the stop. Her lower back hit the tree first.

For one bright moment, she felt it. A ripping, stabbing pain flared.

Thana fell to the ground, a doll carelessly thrown away. She stayed awake through sheer force of will, almost physically pushing the darkness out of her eyes, focused on the pain—pain? Her shoulder was a wreck, someone shoved a rusty saw into her and forgot to remove it, her side _seared_ with pain and the palm of her hand pulsed hotly.

She couldn't feel anything but a cold numbness from her legs. She bit her lip until her teeth came through. She tried to move…anything…down there. Her toes, bend her leg, she slammed a fist into her thigh. Nothing. She gently touched the shadows of the tree.

_War?_

So this was it.

_Famine?_

Not the way she would have wanted to go.

_Plague?_

It could be worse. She was having a hard time thinking of 'worse' but she was sure it existed.

_Anybody?_

She lowered her forehead to wet leaves and broken branches. Her eyes burned but when she blinked, she couldn't tell if it was tears or rainwater dripping down her face. She had nothing else. Her cries came back from the ether, garbled. _Rwa? Emifna? Lugpae? Ybaodny?_

Drowning anguish washed over her, and then disbelief. Anger.

This was it?

This was _fucking it?_

No.

_No._

_nO itf hafh'nn xius ri'inn ghu__**nn fthfthag hft gorka lus 'a'I rus**_

Thana closed her eyes. She crushed her hand into the dirt, jammed her fingers into the shadow. And screamed into the space between realities. Her shadow jerked as she poured everything she had into it, it crawled up her arm and burrowed _into—_The eye heard, she could almost feel it reorient itself, the echoes of its movement tingling through her fingertips. She bared her blood stained teeth in a vicious grin as it cut through the trees.

Let it come.

She wasn't going anywhere.

The last tree fell, smoke hissing from the trunk and she knew it had caught sight of her. Her scream bounced back, _rearranged. _Thana opened both of her eyes. Hard water slashed out to take off her head—

And then opened one hundred more.

Within the dark eye of the storm, something looked through. Reached.

**_"Bias ghhas shx ruiang nu una ghuftft a'a knugh! Ia! IA!"_**

And swallowed the sun.


End file.
